


The New World Order

by Swifty



Category: World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Absurd, Abuse of Authority, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Prostitution, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Awkward Kissing, Bondage, Broken Promises, Business, Corruption, Degradation, Discipline, Drug-Induced Sex, Embarrassment, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Explicit Language, Fear, Forced Prostitution, Friendship/Love, Gen, Heavy Angst, M/M, Mental Instability, Multi, Muteness, Non-Consensual, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Prostitution, Psychological Torture, Psychological Trauma, Ridiculous, Sexual Slavery, Sexual Violence, Stockholm Syndrome, Temporary Amnesia, The Author Regrets Nothing, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Unresolved Tension, Violence, Whump, new world order, whorehouse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-18
Updated: 2016-01-31
Packaged: 2018-02-09 10:56:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 12
Words: 34,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1980306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Swifty/pseuds/Swifty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>the nWo group returns in 2004, with drastic consequences</p><p>(Warnings and disclaimers inside)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Changes

**Author's Note:**

> Yet another Eddie-fic *whistles innocently* I have too much fun hurting his character and all XD
> 
> So, this will be set around 2004 and will span over a few years so it's very heavily Alternate-Universe theme. Basically the nWo group takes over WWE and fires majority of the roster. 
> 
> What they will do with the remaining wrestlers will be made clear in the next couple chapters.
> 
> WARNING - Graphic rape/non con will be taking place throughout the story and it may make some of you squint so please, please heed the warning in the tags in mind. Thank you!
> 
> I'll be alternating between writing this story as well as Blurred Lines. I'm just trying to get out of this writer's block ._. 
> 
> DISCLAIMER - This is a work of fiction. Although it uses the names of several real people and some of the circumstances of their lives and careers, the story is entirely from the author’s imagination and has no basis in fact. Nothing in this story should be taken as representing actual events, attitudes, quotations, relationships or actions of any person living or dead.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Coming back from the break, the WWE wrestlers are in for a nasty surprise

* * *

* * *

 

 

 

 

*** * ***

 

_November 29, 2004_

**  
  
**

Eddie had just pulled in the parking lot when his cell phone started ringing in his pocket. Putting the lowrider in park, he dugged around in his jeans and pulled it out. Confusion washed over him when the caller ID recognized the number as Chavito’s. “Que pasa?” he asked.

“Hola, ese. Man, there’s something weird going on. I got fired.”

Eddie blinked in surprise. “Wait, what?” he muttered. This didn’t make any sense.

“I don’t know, hombre. I’m just saying that the headquarters called me half an hour ago and said that I didn’t have to show up to work because I’m fired for incompetence.”

Eddie shook his head in a daze. “That’s strange, chico. I’ll talk to Vince and see what’s going on,” he murmured, stepping out of his car and grabbing his gym bag.

“Okay, but be careful. I have a bad feeling about this,” Chavito sighed, hanging up.

Eddie stared at his phone and put it back in his pocket. “What the hell?” he muttered, running his hand through his hair. Everyone had a couple weeks off for Thanksgiving and today was their first day back to work. Why would they choose now to fire his nephew? He glanced around the company’s parking lot, his brows furrowing in further confusion -- he was ten minutes late and yet there was hardly any other vehicles here.

Chavito’s warning echoed in his mind again and he shivered slightly. This … was disconcerting. He walked through the empty hallways that normally bustled with busy stage crew, trainers, road agents, and other wrestlers. The building felt lifeless. By the time he reached the locker room, he started to wonder if he was the only person here.

Then there was suddenly a scream. The sheer desperate tone and the high pitch was enough to make the hairs on the back of his neck stand up and goosebumps broke out all over his body. He rushed in and the sight before him made him freeze up in horror.

Two men, faces unfamiliar to him, were ganging up on a smaller one who was crying feebly. They ripped the shirt off and lecherous hands pried at the waistbands of the jeans. The smaller man let outa nother shriek and Eddie suddenly recognized him.

The bag slipped off his shoulder as he ran into the two brutes, fury blinding him.

Surprised by the sudden assault, the two gurly men backed off, staring at him in dumbfoundedness. The black-haired taller one glared at the latino. “Who the hell are you?”

Eddie didn’t answer the question, standing protectively over Rey, his dark eyes flashing with hatred. “The fuck you think you’re doing?” he snapped.

The other man with blonde hair smirked and whispered something in his partner’s ear. The demeanor in the two changed and they looked at the wrestler with haughty glee. “You’re one of them wrestlers, ain’t ya?” one of them asked.

Eddie’s only answer was a narrowed-eye glare.

Before anything else could happen, a ringtone began playing. The black-haired man took his phone out and glanced at it, disappointment flashing across his face. “You’re lucky,” he sighed, “we have to go see Kevin. Catch you later, punk.” They both walked out of the room, giving both latinos one last leer before the doors shut.

Eddie exhaled softly, muttering a curse in Spanish under his breath before turning around to check over his best friend. His heart broke at the whimpering sounds. “Rey,” he began.

Rey flinched at the quiet words and curled up even tighter, gasping in fear.

Eddie sat down on his knees, a hand resting lightly on one shaking shoulder. “Holmes, it’s me, Eddie. Yo no voy a hacerle daño. Estás a salvo conmigo,”  he murmured gently.

Rey sniffled and glanced up, relief washing over him at the familiar, softly accented voice. He buried his face in his friend’s chest. “Th-They tried to --” he couldn’t finish, sobbing harder. His tears dampened the black shirt, but the other latino didn’t seem to mind, only hugging him tightly.

“It’s okay, hombre. I got you. These pendejos are gone. Yo no dejare que te impongas otra mono,” Eddie promised ferociously, planting a comforting kiss in the close-cropped hair.

Rey relaxed in the warm embrace, the shock slowly wearing off. Eventually, he found his voice again. “What’s going on? I came to work and no one was here. I was just about to change when those two attack me from behind ..” he swallowed heavily, “thank god you came when you did.”

‘ _Me too,_ ’  Eddie thought, squeezing his arms around his friend once more when he felt the smaller body tremble. “I’m not sure,” he admitted softly, “Chavito called me when I got here. He’s been fired.”

Rey looked up in bewilderment. “Fired?!” he exclaimed. A finger brushed off a few tears that had slipped down his cheeks. Had it been anyone else, he would have blushed with embarrassment and shied away, but it was Eddie. The older latino had always been by his side since their WCW days -- about ten years now. He’d grown to see him as his big brother.

Eddie nodded. “Si. They called him today, said he’s released for incompetence, which is just weird. So I said I would talk to Vince.”

Rey blinked and nodded slowly. “Hopefully the boss can give us some answers,” he agreed, “I think his office is down in the west wing.”

Eddie stood up and offered his hand to Rey who graciously accepted it. “You want to come with me?”

“After what happened, I rather not be alone,” Rey muttered quietly.

Eddie gave the smaller man a knowing look and they walked on in silence, Rey holding onto his hand.

They finally reached the CEO’s office, but they stopped at the condition of the door. The name ‘McMahon’ had been scratched off. Eddie and Rey glanced at each other anxiously. That didn’t seem like a good sign.

“Well, let’s just see if anyone is here,” Eddie spoke, pushing the door open, and peeked in. Surprise crashed into him when he saw Benoit in the office. “Oy, holmes! What are you doing here? Did you got transfer back to SmackDown?” he asked curiously.

Chris jumped at the voice, looking at his friend in dismay. He’d been hoping that Kevin had put the latino on the dismissal list. Then Rey came out from behind Eddie’s back and he flinched. _‘Not Mysterio too, please God.’_  He grabbed Eddie’s shoulders. “You both need to get out of here,” he whispered desperately.

Eddie looked at the Canadian, puzzled by the slightly panicked expression. “Why? What’s going on, where’s --”

“Who are your friends, Benny?”

Chris gritted his teeth and cursed inwardly at the new voice. Too late now.

Kevin Nash strolled in the office with Scott Hall and Triple H behind him. He flashed a glance at Eddie. “You’re late, Guerrero.”

Eddie bristled, shoving Rey behind him to shield his friend from the pendejo. “What the hell are you doing here?” he snarled.

Nash smirked and stood in front of the smaller man. “I wouldn’t speak like that if I were you. I’m your new boss.”

Eddie stared at the bastard in disbelief. “There’s no way Vince would hire a culo like you,” he sneered. Then his cheek flared up in pain as an open palm smacked him.

Rey stiffened from behind the other latino, digging his fingers in the shirt. The day was quickly turning into a nightmare.

“You got spunk. I’ll give you that, but you really should learn respect,” Nash growled, looking down coolly.

Eddie returned the glare, his eyes narrowing as a stubborn look came over his face. “I ain’t ever gonna respect the likes of you,” he hissed.

Chris winced. Geez, his friend was really pushing it.

Surprisingly, Nash laughed heartily. “I’m glad I decided to keep you here. I think I’ll personally overlook your case,” he spoke, grinning.

Eddie backed off, confused again. “My case? What are you talking about? Is anyone going to tell us what the hell is going on?” he asked warily, his hatred slowly being replaced by apprehension. His only answer was a cocky smirk.

“You’ll find out soon enough. Scotty, you take Rey. Call me if you want to transfer him,” Kevin murmured, glancing at Hall.

 

The older man nodded quietly.

“Wait, isn’t that a little too harsh?” Chris protested. He knew he was speaking out of place, but he couldn’t let his friends be under the care of these men.

Nash sighed impatiently. “If Hunter hadn’t vouch for you, you would have been released. Shut up and be grateful you still have your job.”

 **  
**Eddie looked at Benoit. “Wha--?” his question died off on his tongue as he was suddenly picked up and placed over one meaty shoulder. He shouted in surprise and squirmed, kicking out angrily. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he growled indignantly. He strained from the iron grip and looked up. Rey was staring at him with wide eyes, shock and dismay on his face. That would be the last time he saw his friend until several months later as the doors closed shut.

 

*** * ***

 

**to be continued**

 

* * *

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations (courtesy of Spanishdict.com)
> 
> hombre = man
> 
> Yo no voy a hacerle daño. Estás a salvo conmigo = I won't hurt you. You're safe with me. 
> 
> Yo no dejare que te impongas otra mono = I won't let them lay another hand on you.
> 
> pendejos = dicks/dickwads 
> 
> culo = ass


	2. New Role

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Training begins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> intense rape ahead. Proceed with caution.

* * *

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

*** * ***

 

 

 

 

 

Eddie struggled again, slamming his elbow against the back of Kevin’s head. “Let me go, you bastard!” he spat.

 

Nash smirked and only tightened his arm around the kicking legs. “Tonight will be fun. I know quite a few people who will love to get their hands on you,” he murmured, walking into one of the empty offices.

 

Eddie yelped when he was thrown backwards, landing awkwardly on the ground. “What’s your issue?” he grumbled, rubbing his sore back.

 

Nash locked the door and leaned against the wall casually. “I suppose I should explain the situation,” he drawled.

 

“Oh, please do enlighten me,” Eddie snarked, his words laced with heavy sarcasm.

 

Kevin rolled his eyes. “Boy, our clients sure are going to love you,” he muttered quietly.

 

Eddie glanced at the man, confused. The pendejo said that word again. “Clients?” he echoed.

 

Nash shrugged his shoulders as a sly smile split across his face. “Yes, you see, I and the others have come back. Vince isn’t in charge anymore. This is no longer a wrestling company,” he explained.

 

Eddie only stared at the big man in disbelief. “But then why am I and Rey still here? All we do is wrestle,” he murmured.

 

Nash chuckled. “Oh, but we still have use for you guys.”

 

The dark words caused Eddie to shiver and he shuffled backwards into a corner, dread lining his stomach.

 

“The ones we’ve fired were because they have no appeal. Nothing about them would interest the clients so they’re a waste of the company’s money,” Nash continued, walking over towards the younger man. “But you and a few others have…..quirks that will make you a hit.”

 

Eddie stiffened when the pendejo grabbed his arm and forced him on his feet. “Wait, what does that mean?” he stammered, tugging against the grip as he was dragged over to a desk.

 

Kevin glanced over his shoulder, a small smirk curving his lips upward. “It means you’re a slut now. This is a prostitution company.”

 

Eddie froze up, his mind going blank with shock. This had to be some horrible rib or a crazy nightmare he was having. Then he snapped out of his stupor when his jacket was yanked off of his shoulders. “Get your hands off of me!” he snapped, his voice hitching as he clawed at the man. His back hit the table and his panic worsened.

 

“Consider this your orientation of your new job,” Nash spoke crisply, ignoring the fists pounding against him. He forcefully turned the smaller man around so that the back was facing him.

 

Eddie flinched when he felt hands fumbling around his belt and his hips instinctively buckled backwards in attempt to get away from the unwanted touches, but then he felt a hardness rubbing against his exposed backside. A strangled whimper escaped from his throat and he clenched his jaw shut, his body instantly breaking out in cold sweat.

 

“That’s right, feel it,” Nash growled, holding the slim hips in place as he rutted his erection against the denim-clad ass, smiling at the choked mewl. “Soon it’s going to be buried inside of you.”

 

Eddie screwed his eyes shut, ignoring the tears streaking down his cheeks. _“Guerrero Men don’t cry,”_ his eldest brother’s voice reminded him, but he couldn’t stop it. The image of his family, probably enjoying dinner now in El Paso, was enough to bring fresh tears to his eyes. He made a feeble attempt at kicking at the pendejo, but he was rewarded with a smack against his head. He bit down on his lips when his hands were yanked together behind his back, Kevin tying them with his belt so tightly the circulation was cut off. His teeth dug into the skin, breaking it and making his lower lip bleed, to stop the pleas from spilling out. He will not beg. He refused to beg.

 

His breathing faltered when his pants were tugged down, pooling around his feet. He rest his face against the cold, hard surface of the desk, panting.

 

Then he let out a startled cry when he felt something jabbing its way in his entrance.

 

“Be grateful that I’m prepping you. You’re too tight,” Kevin muttered, scissoring his finger inside, trying to loosen up the muscles. The man beneath him let out a sob when his digit curled upwards. Annoyance flickered through him. The runt was sure noisy. He took his bandana out of his hair and rolled it up before stuffing it in the latino’s mouth.

 

Eddie choked at the cloth being forced in the back of his throat, shaking his head frantically. His gag reflex kicked in and he started dry-heaving, his tongue pushing against the bandana desperately but to no avail.

 

Nash tied it tightly around the back of the head and pat a shoulder condescendingly. “Ready for your training?” he asked lightly.

 

His lungs felt too small; he couldn’t get enough air in, and Eddie bit down on the gag when he felt something hard prodding against his hole. He whined and automatically tried to close his thighs, but a knee brace itself between his legs, leaving him spread open.

 

“Joan did say you were always a little bitch,” Nash laughed, inching himself inside the tight channel, a low groan emitting from his throat as his cock throbbed in the wet heat. “So fucking good.”

 

Pain was all Eddie could focus on, gasping as the bastard’s full length went all the way inside of him until he could feel the man’s sack against his ass. Then everything got worse once Kevin’s hips began moving. He let out a muffled wail when the speed kicked up.

 

_‘Jackass isn’t even using a condom.’_

 

He hope he didn’t catch a damn disease from this sick culo. A particularly harsh thrust caused something to tear and he could feel wetness sliding down between his legs. He swallowed back another cry, biting down on his tongue when he was pinned further on the table.

 

The passage, now slickened by blood and precum, let Nash move more freely without being bothered by the friction burn. Sweat beads gathered on his forehead and his breathing became labored. He took one hand off of the latino’s hip and reached around to pinch the tip of the flaccid cock, relishing in the pained shriek he’d earned. His thrusting became more erratic and frantic. With one loud groan, he buried himself to the hilt inside the trembling body as he came.

 

Disgust and revulsion washed over Eddie when he felt the sticky, warm fluid painting his insides. He wiggled forward, trying to get it out of him, but hands grabbed his hips and pulled him back.

 

“Not so fast,” Kevin breathed softly, his head still spinning from the euphoria of his orgasm. “Your training isn’t over yet.”

 

Eddie frowned, his forehead creasing. What the hell did the bastard mean? Then he flinched when Nash pulled out with a wet _plop!_ Shame colored his cheeks red and he bit down on the gag, furiously trying to keep the tears back. He fumbled a bit when his right foot was grabbed and pulled to against the leg of the table. He could feel the duct tape being wrapped around his ankle, effectively rendering him trapped.

 

“Ah, I almost forgot,” Kevin chided himself, pulling a scarf out of the pocket in his pants.

 

Eddie let out a muffled noise when he was blindfolded, wincing at the tightening of the knot around his head. Then he choked when a finger dabbed his sore opening.

 

“Hm, still tight. No worries, though. The rest of the group will take care of it. By the time we’re done with you tonight, you’ll be stretched out and ready for our clients.”

 

Eddie felt a lingering taste of vomit in the back of his throat at the words. _‘We? Group?’_

 

As if on cue, he could hear voices out in the hallway from behind the door.

 

_No. Please, no._

 

A terror, unlike anything he’d felt before in his life, settled over his body and he tuned Kevin’s next words out. If his mouth was free of the damn gag, he would have begged right here and then. To hell with his pride. He jumped when a hand clapped his shoulder.

 

“Chris will clean you up when your training ends. See you later,” Nash spoke cheerfully, zipping his pants and fixing his clothes before stepping outside.

 

Eddie tried to keep his breathing even, but all he wanted to do was to just get the hell out of here. A new set of footsteps caught his ears and he went rigid when a pair of digits experimentally poked around the hole.

 

“Huh, Kevin wasn’t kidding. You _are_ tight!” an unfamiliar voice exclaimed with glee.

 

Eddie snarled and tried wrenching away, but received a harsh slap for his trouble as the fingers slid out of him. He could hear his own frantic panting in the stiff air and had to fight not to outright cry when he heard the sound of a belt being undone. He screamed uselessly in the bandana and pressed his lower body against the desk when the man moved closer to nudge his member against his entrance. He was ignored and held fast as the thick cock began forcing its way in him.

 

Once halfway in, the man grabbed hold of Eddie’s hips and pushed forward, seating himself fully with one hard shove.

 

Something else tore and Eddie blacked out briefly.

 

He could hear loud grunting and moaning above him, but for a while, he couldn’t feel anything.

 

Then a sharp, searing pain in his opening made him see white and open his mouth over the gag in a breathless howl.

 

The man fucking him didn’t seem to be bothered by his agonized screaming, but continued to thrust into his bent-over form. Eddie whimpered and choked on something in his throat when a hand shot down and grasped his balls in a harsh grip.

 

“You gonna come for me, bitch?”

 

_Please God, no._

 

The thrusting picked up in speed and the hand moved to close around his soft cock. A heartbreaking sound forced its way out of his mouth when warmth began pooling in his groin and his flesh hardened thanks to the forceful touch.

 

Here he was, restrained and fucked like an animal, and getting off on it while crying like a little girl. His brother’s stern words echoed in his mind again, _“Guerrero Men don’t cry,”_ and tears began sliding down his cheeks from under the blindfold. He couldn’t hold back a squeal when his member was twisted.

 

“Ha, I think you are!”

 

Eddie bucked and shook his head, but the man only laughed and began stroking the shaft while shoving himself inside as far as possible.

 

He was completely filled, forced to spread his legs apart to keep himself from being crushed on the desk. A finger rubbed against the slit of his cock, and Eddie screeched and arched his back when he felt the start of an orgasm building. The bastard above him let out a satisfied groan, speeding up the movements, pulling Eddie’s sore body with every roll of the hips.

 

Eddie came first with a shameful moan. He spasmed and clenched on the member still lodged inside of him as he was tugged to completion, choking on his own snot and tears, and completely boneless. The man’s hot load was released in his slack body not long after, and he rest his cheek on the table as he felt more tears making its way down his burning face. He whimpered when the flaccid cock was pulled out.

 

The man let out a pleased sigh. “Not bad, not bad at all. You still tight, eh?”

 

Eddie jerked when the fingers returned to his opening, mewling pitifully as they rubbed against the stretched skin.

 

The man let out a dry chuckle and pat the back affectionately before putting his clothes back on and leaving.

 

Eddie swallowed once he was left alone again. Kevin had called this training, but training for what? Nothing made sense in his pain-idled brain. There was mentions of clients, but what kind of clients?

 

_“You gonna come for me, bitch?”_

 

He shuddered, curling up the best he could in this contraption.

 

He was stuck in an office, his ass burned, and there was another man’s cum inside of him.

 

And it was going to happen again.

 

_Don’t cry. Don’t fucking cry._

 

He was abruptly pulled out of his thoughts when the door opened again.

 

Eddie tensed and fought to remain calm as the footsteps drew closer. Anger suddenly overwhelmed him and he yelled, kicking backwards as hard as he could when he felt hands on his side.

 

Something close to triumph welled up in his chest when he felt his foot connect with soft tissue and heard the pained curse as the man staggered backwards. It was quickly replaced with dread when his legs were grabbed and spread. He squirmed and tried to kick out again, but he couldn’t get out of the hold.

 

He could hear the man breathing, but the assailant was otherwise completely silent. There were no words spoken when he pushed in, tightening his grip on Eddie’s legs and holding him steadily as he moved. Eddie bit down on the gag and closed his eyes tightly shut when he was filled again. He was still hurting from before and the stretching hadn’t been enough to prepare him. It felt like a hot poker was being shoved in his ass, and Eddie couldn’t stop the small, pained noises that escaped from the bandana when the man pushed in to the hilt, yet he didn’t cry and that was a small victory.

 

The room was filled with the revolting sound of skin slapping skin and the wet motion of the cock sliding in and out of him. A small moan was heard every now and then, but that was it.

 

Eddie clenched down and whined when the movements quickened, every thrust making him see white. Finally, thank God, the man stilled with a soft grunt when he came, adding to the mixture of blood and come inside the shaking body. A few moments of nothing and the man was gone.

 

Eddie only had a few minutes to recompose himself before the door opened yet again.

 

He kicked out even though he was aware that it wouldn’t stop the assaults, but he couldn’t just stay still and take it. He was instantly awarded with a stinging slap to his ass and a hand wrenching his head up by his hair.

 

“He told me you were a feisty little slut. Is that right? You like it rough?”

 

Eddie didn’t have time to curse or pull away before his face was slammed against the table and another hand wrapped around his throat. He choked and kicked weakly as his vision grayed.

 

“I bet you let them fuck you good and hard, you little faggot. Do you beg for it, huh? Show me. Show me how you beg for it, little bitch.”

 

He was held down, unable to breathe or fight back, as the sick fuck entered him and began thrusting into his convulsing body while spewing more dirty comments and questions he couldn’t answer. He could hear the horrendous sounds of himself choking, but he couldn’t move.

 

He screamed into the gag and shook his head as much as he could while pushing his feet against the floor. He couldn’t see, couldn’t hear, and he couldn’t even feel the pain of being fucked anymore.

 

Then the hand around his neck was gone and he could breathe again. He couldn’t get enough air in through his nose and he started retching, trembling and making small twitches with every pull of his body. He could vaguely hear the distant laughter when his sore throat worked against another pained wail. This pendejo was obviously getting off on this, the sounds he was making, but he couldn’t help himself. It _hurt_.

 

He just wanted to be back home, listening to his brothers argue over the TV remote, to eat his mom’s food again.

 

Hell, he’d chose to go back to WCW over this.

 

Eddie squeaked when the man pulled out, still hard, and smearing his backside with come and blood.

 

“You want me to stop?”

 

He couldn’t answer if he wanted to. He couldn’t do anything but whine when three fingers were shoved in his leaking opening. There was no resistance anymore, but it still hurt when the nails scraped against his sore channel.

 

Then the man was in front of him. Eddie jerked and tried turning his head away, but his jaw was grasped and held up as the head of the slickened cock moved over his cheeks and closed mouth. The bastard panted as he began jerking himself off while holding on tight to Eddie’s face.

 

Eddie clenched his eyes shut and fought wildly to pull back. The fingers on his jaw tightened and the panting turned strained.

 

He was unable to move away or avoid the thick, disgusting spurts of cum that began running down his hair and nose. The softened cock was pushed and rubbed against his face while his assailant rode out the orgasm. Eddie scrunched up his nose when the smell of musk and sweat invaded his senses.

 

The man patted his head and he wrenched away with a muffled snarl. He got a playful slap to his face as a result, but the man left, whistling nonchalantly.

 

Eddie remained limp on the table, breathing raggedly as the cum dried on his face and the rest dripping from his torn opening. How much longer did this ‘training’ have to go on? His only answer was the silent ticking of the clock somewhere around the room.

 

The door opened again.

  
Eddie closed his eyes as a few more tears slid down his cheeks.

 

*** * ***

 

* * *

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *hugs Eddie* I'm so sorry, bae. I don't know why I enjoy hurting you, but I'm sorry *hugs tighter*


	3. Cleanup

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The training finally ended. Yet he discovers that not even his closest friend can be trusted.

* * *

* * *

 

 

 

 

*** * ***

 

 

 

 

Eddie jerked, screwing his eyes shut when he felt fingers untying the gag and taking it off before going down to free his hands from the belt.

“It’s alright. You can relax. It’s over for now.”

Chris’ familiar voice instantly put Eddie at ease and he winced as he brought his hands back to his chest. Tingly sensation prickled along the frayed nerves as the muscles in his arms woke up from being bounded so tightly. His ankle was cut loose from the table and he collapsed weakly on the desk, sagging against it. “How long has it been?” he asked tiredly, his voice hoarse, yanking the blindfold out and blinking against the harsh fluorescent lights.

There was a pause. “A little over a hour.”

He flinched and stood up on his feet shakily, bending down to hastily pull his jeans up. His entire skin was covered in sweat, blood, and dried cum. He felt absolutely filthy.

Chris looked over his friend softly, hating how the latino looked pale and shell-shocked. “Come on, let’s go clean you up. There’s a washroom down the hall,” he murmured, “no one else is there.”

Eddie hesitated and gave a small nod, following the other man down the hallway. Every little noise made him flinch and he drew closer to Benoit. Every movement he made sent short stabs of pain up from his sore ass. His throat closed up in shame. He wouldn’t be able to sit down or go to the bathroom normally for weeks judging from the damage.

Chris glanced over his shoulder to check on his friend again. The younger wrestler was completely disheveled, exhaustion lining the face. He sighed quietly and grabbed one shaking hand, ignoring the flinch. “We’re here.”

Eddie stiffly walked into the bathroom. There was a community stalls of shower down the room. He tensed when the Canadian tried to tug him forward. “I rather clean up by myself,” he snarled.

Chris blinked at the terse words. “What? You don’t trust me?” he asked, baffled at the dark eyes that were flashing angrily at him.

“Why are you with them?” Eddie seethed, his voice the barest of a whisper.

Chris bit back a groan and turned to fully face the latino. “It’s not what you think,” he started.

“And why didn’t you call me and Rey --” Eddie growled and then cut off abruptly when he thought of Rey. His chest constricted in panic. Did his hermano have to go through what he just did? Surely these people can’t be that cruel. Rey-Rey was just a kid for god’s sake. “Is Rey okay?” he asked frantically, “They didn’t do anything to him, did they?” He was going to kill the bastards if they laid a hand on his best friend.

“No, no. Hall just locked him in his room. Nothing is going to happen,” Chris reassured the panicking man hastily. ‘yet,’ he added silently, swallowing hard.

“Can I see him?” Eddie asked. His pain was all but forgotten. He had to make sure the younger latino was okay. The very thought of Rey being used by these culos was enough to make him sick.

“No,” Chris said flatly, “I’m not authorized for that.”

Eddie whirled around to glare hotly at the Canadian, betrayal lashing through him. “What? Are you suddenly their puppet now, pendejo?” He spat.

Chris averted his eyes, unable to bear the cold fire in the dark gaze. “Clean up and I’ll explain,” he murmured.

Eddie scowled and stalked past the bigger wrestler, going in one of the stalls that was out of sight.

Chris waited until he heard the sound of water running before he sighed and sat down on the bench, head in his hands.

Eddie winced when he gently pried the jeans off, the pain returning with the full force of a runaway train. After he got his clothes off, he gingerly stepped under the stream of water. The warmth and the pressure soothed his aching muscles and he gradually relaxed. He ran his hands over his body, trying to get the cum and blood off. Relief surged through him once his skin was clean. Then his fingers brushed through his hair sticky from the fluid mixture. Bile rose up in his throat and he bent over, throwing up as the flashbacks played in his head.

_“You’re gonna come for me, bitch?”_

__

_“I bet you let them fuck you good and hard, you little faggot.”_

__

_“So fucking needy, you just can’t get enough, can you?”_

__

_“Feels good, doesn’t it? You wanna come? Want me to touch you again?”_

__

By the time he came back to his senses, he was on his hands and knees, retching up what little remained in his stomach. Salty tears streaked down his face, being washed away by the water spouting out of the showerhead. He hiccuped and furiously rubbed his face.

_So fucking pathetic._

__

He hurriedly washed his hair with the shampoo that somebody left behind, desperate to get rid of the sticky mixture. After a few minutes of cleaning, he turned the shower off and grabbed a towel, drying himself and covering his body with it. He glanced at his dirty clothes in the far corner of the stall, grimacing in disgust. He didn’t want to wear them again -- He much rather set them on fire and watch them burn.

Exhaustion swept over him and he leaned against the wet tile wall. God, he just wanted to go back to his hotel and sleep and forget that any of this had happened.

A quiet cough made him jump and he peeked out from behind the curtain warily.

“I got some new clothes for you,” Chris murmured, handing the folded items out.

Eddie glared and grabbed the set, muttering a curt “thanks” and closing the curtain. It was a pair of sweatpants with a faded white tank top and boxers. He sighed and dressed himself, wincing when he had to bend to put the pants on.

Chris waited on the bench again and before long, his friend came out of the stalls, arms crossed.

“I’m clean. Now tell me why the fuck you’re with these pervs,” Eddie growled.

Chris took a deep breath and stood up. “I didn’t know what was going on until I got to work. Nash said I was part of the group because H said I was useful. I didn’t know he was going to turn this place into a whorehouse until right before you and Rey came,” he explained.

The hurt look in Eddie’s gaze didn’t go away. “You know how Nash is. Why would you work for him?”

Chris gritted his teeth, frustration mounting. “I need a job so I can support Nancy and Danny. You know that. They’re tripling my pay. I won’t find that kind of money anywhere else.”

“So you’re selling out to them? Are you really that big of a culo --”

Then he snapped, the dam breaking. The stress of worrying about his friends, the anger at Nash, and the self-hatred flowing through him caused him to lash out. “Goddammit, Eddie! Will you listen for one minute or are you so fucking wrapped around yourself that you can’t see why I had to do this?” He snapped, cornering the smaller man between the sink and the wall. “Or maybe I should do what those men did to you and maybe that’ll just straightened you out, huh?!”

“Is everything okay here, ladies?”

His anger evaporated and he glanced over to the owner of the new voice. Nash was standing by the open doorway, smirking as if he’d found a funny video to watch.

Chris looked back at his friend, his heart freezing up. If Eddie looked pale before, then he was as white as freshly-washed sheets now. His eyes were wide with stark fear and his mouth was in one thin line.

“Eddie, I’m sorry,” Chris breathed. Self-loathing filled every vein of his body until his skin became flushed from the guilt of what he had just said. Anger was no excuse. This was not something to use as a threat, he knew that. He knew better than that.

Eddie flinched, unable to hold back a whimper as a hand carefully touched his shoulder. “Don’t touch me,” he muttered in a small voice.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that,” Chris whispered, his own voice cracking as he withdrew his hand.

Kevin snorted and turned away, leaving the bathroom. “Take him to my room when you’re done.”

Chris glared at the back of the bastard as Nash disappeared. He sighed, rubbing his face tiredly. “Are you ready to go?”

Eddie swallowed thickly and moved away from the corner he’d been trapped in. “When can I go home?”

“Um, you don’t leave.”

Eddie froze up, despair hitting him. “W-What?” he stammered.

“You’re a special case. You stay here,” Chris mumbled, dropping his gaze to the ground. He opened the door. “Come on, let’s take you back.”

Eddie’s shoulders drooped and he sulked past the Canadian, trying to keep his fear hidden. His body started trembling at the prospect of another ‘training’

He did _not_ want to go through that again.

The two men walked on in uneasy silence until they reached a large door with ‘Nash’ printed on the star-shaped sticker in the center.

 

Eddie exhaled quietly, shivering. He hurled a sharp curse at Chris when the man tried to nudge him. “I said don’t touch me, you fuck.”

Chris flinched at the hateful words and said nothing as he knocked on the door. Kevin’s voice boomed at them to come in. He opened the wooden frame and gestured at Eddie to go in.

Eddie growled deep in his throat and shouldered past Benoit, spitting at the man’s feet. “Piss off,” he snarked, hurt and betrayal still washing over him. He thought Chris was his best friend -- that he could trust the wrestler -- yet Chris was happy being Nash’s puppet and following orders.

_“Or maybe I should do what those men did to you and maybe that’ll just straighten you out, huh?!”_

__

He shivered, studying his feet as the door closed behind him.

He just wanted to go home …

 

 

 

 

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	4. End of the First Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Why couldn't this just be a dream...?

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Nash glanced up from where he was fixing a bowl of soup in the kitchen when Guerrero stepped in the room. “I take it the orientation was knowledgeable enough?”

Eddie flinched and gave the pendejo a withering glare. “Go to hell.”

Nash grinned at the insult. “Glad to see you still got a fight in you. I assume that was your first time?” he asked, walking towards his new pet.

Eddie stumbled backwards, hitting the door and tensing up when a finger trailed over his biceps and hot breath tickled his ear.

“You never forget your first time. You’ll feel it forever. Trust me, you’ll remember it.”

The soft purr made him shiver and he steeled himself against the frame, standing perfectly still as the digit brushed over to his jaw, tilting his chin up. A thumb caressed his lips and he yanked his head away with a quiet snarl.

Nash let out a little amused snort of laughter. “Ah, yes, I do believe you’ll be popular,” he drawled, nodding approvingly as he catalogued the faint bruises along the jawline. “After a few more training sessions, you’ll be ready.”

A feeling of fear, anger, and horror coated around Eddie in a thick blanket and he stared at the pendejo in disbelief. “Are you kidding me?!”

Nash went back to the kitchen, grabbing the bowl. “For now you’ll have three days to heal. I don’t need the wounds becoming infected. I doubt there’ll be any more tearing since you should be nice and loose by now,” he murmured, handing out the soup, “Eat, you’ll need your strength.”

Eddie bristled and flung the bowl out of his face, the contents splattering all over the carpet by their feet. “Fuck you! You can choke on your bullshit and die, you fucking culo,” he spat, pushing the bastard out of his personal space.

Nash raised an eyebrow at the tantrum. “Well, I hope you’re proud of yourself. That was your dinner. You’ll have to wait till tomorrow night before you can eat anything else. clean up the mess,” he spoke calmly, going into the bedroom to change his shirt.

Eddie glowered in the direction Kevin had left and went to the door, turning the knob. Confusion crashed into him when the door didn’t open. He turned again, and it still wouldn’t budge. “The hell?” he muttered, tugging against the damn knob. Then he was suddenly up in the air and carried over a shoulder again. “For fuck’s sake, put me down!” he yelled out, flinching when pain shot up from his lower stomach because it _still hurt._

“You don’t follow orders too well, do you?” Nash grunted, returning to the bedroom and tossing the smaller body on the bed.

Eddie went rigid when he landed on the soft mattress. He hurriedly turned over and started crawling off, but then his ankle was yanked sharply and he fell face-first on the bed. He curled up and tried desperately to keep his lower body out of reach.

_'Please don’t let him do it again. Please, God. I can’t take another one.'_

__

“So what’s the deal between you and Chris?”

The question jarred him out of his panic and he looked up, trembling. “What?”

“Are you guys fuck buddies or ….?”

“No!” Eddie snapped, glaring at the pendejo. “I’m not gay.”

Nash barked out a quiet laugh. “That’s not what I heard from your training.” He took glee in how the latino’s face went bright red, the ears turning pink.

Humiliation flushed through his body and Eddie looked down, his shaking worse. “I’m not gay,” he repeated.

“Admit it, you like having a cock in you and being fucked senseless.”

He flinched and a small, undignified noise escaped his throat when a hand squeezed his ass playfully. “No, that’s not true,” he insisted, shaking his head furiously.

Nash only smirked. “You don’t like hearing the truth, eh? That’s your problem. Maybe I should have Chris join in on the next session,” he teased.

Ice cold terror fell upon Eddie and he stared at Kevin in shock. Surely the man was joking.

_“Maybe I should do what those men did to you.”_

__

The words replayed over and over again in his head. He had no idea if Chris was being serious, but he really didn’t want to find out.

Amusement washed over Nash as he watched Guerrero panicked silently. He wished he could record the entire thing. He got off of the bed. “Now that you’ve been put in your place, go clean up. You can sleep on the couch tonight,” he paused, his smile growing bigger, “or you can sleep with Big Daddy.”

Eddie’s fear evaporated into boiling hot anger and he spat at the bastard, a small twinge of satisfaction settling in his chest when the spit landed in one of the eyes.

Nash grimaced and rubbed the saliva out. “Cute,” he muttered. He made a mental note to find an aggressive man for the brat’s first client.

Eddie climbed off of the bed, walking back into the main room. He sighed and grabbed a paper towel roll, bending down to clean the mess. He winced when the movement caused a slight tear of skin in his raw entrance. ‘ _Damn, how much longer will the pain last?_ ’

He did a sloppy job of cleaning, just to piss the pendejo off. He sat down on the couch and laid on his back, staring at the ceiling. He sent a quick prayer of thanks that Chavito made the list -- he didn’t want his nephew to go through this. His thoughts drifted over to Rey, his stomach tightening. _‘Please don’t let him be hurt. He’s only a kid. He doesn't deserve this.’_ He swallowed hard and turned on his side, curling in a tight ball.

He was still half-convinced that this was all some bizarre nightmare he was having, but the pain and the aches in his body told him it was real.

A few tears slid down into his hairline and he quickly dried them off. _"Guerrero Men don’t cry."_

**  
  
**

Maybe he could escape tomorrow. There had to be some opening he could take advantage of. Before he could muse further, his eyelids grew heavy. God, he really was exhausted …

 **  
**He struggled to keep his eyes open, paranoid of what Kevin would do to his vulnerable body, but eventually he fell asleep, too tired to stay awake much longer.

 

 

 

 

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	5. Break

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was the last day of his "break" and then shit hit the fan.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Eddie yelped when his ass was smacked. He whirled around and glared at the offender. “Keep your filthy paws to yourself,” he hissed.

Nash grinned, snickering. “Touchy, aren’t we?” he teased, walking past the latino.

Eddie growled and turned back to where he was washing dishes in the sink. The past couple of days had been absolute hell. There was still pain in his lower body, though it wasn’t as severe as it was in the beginning, and Kevin just would not leave him alone. The bastard constantly groped at him and made lewd comments. He’d barely had anything to eat other than the horrible cabbage soup last night. He put the last plate in the drying rack and wiped his hands with the rag, sighing quietly. His stomach rumbled again, but he ignored it. There was nothing to eat here but soup, and he was sick of it. He refused to eat another bowl Nash served him. The pendejo didn’t seem to be able to cook worth shit.

_“More training is needed. You aren’t ready yet, so I’ll find a couple of guys to prep you tomorrow.”_

__

Eddie shuddered as he recalled the conversation earlier this morning. Absently picking at a scab on his wrist, he glanced over to where Kevin was sitting on the couch. “Is there anywhere I can eat besides the crap you make?” he asked bluntly, deliberately trying to provoke a reaction. So far, the big man only smirk and tease him whenever he acted out or said something smart. He wanted to see if there was a line to cross.

Nash looked at Guerrero, slightly irritated at the disrespectful tone. He won’t admit it or show it, but the latino was driving him nuts with every snide remark and loud outburst. Doing a once over at the younger man, he idly wondered if a round of fucking would do the job of silencing him.

Eddie blinked as the bastard stared at him. “What -- did you forget how to talk, holmes?” he taunted, rolling his eyes.

Then, in one swift movement, Nash stood up and came face-to-face with him.

Eddie backed off, slightly alarmed. He opened his mouth to say something when fingers started unbuttoning his shirt. He gasped indignantly and slapped the hands away.

Kevin’s response was pinning him up against the sink.

He snarled and went to knee the pendejo. The collar of his shirt was grabbed and he was pulled close against the bigger body while the hips were pressed hard against his own, trapping him.

Warm breath tickled his ear and he fought back a flinch when stubbled cheek brushed against his jaw.

“Last thing I recalled, sluts don’t have rights. The only thing you’re good for is being fucked, and chained up when you’re not of use.”

The quiet words made him shiver and he strained away from Nash. An apology started to bubble up, but he quickly shot it down. There was no way he was going to back down from this asshat. “Go to hell,” he spat, twisting his body away from the intrusive pressure.

Nash narrowed his eyes and made a quick work of ripping the shirt and tearing the buttons off.

Eddie froze, his breaths coming to a stuttering halt as panic blinded him. Then his pants were yanked down past his hips and he jerked backwards. “St-Stop,” he stammered, starting to tremble.

“A disobedient whore needs to be punished, wouldn’t you agree?”

The hissed words made his stomach coil and his shaking worsened. “I --” he started to say, but the sound of a door opening cut the rest of his sentence off. He couldn’t see since Nash’s body was blocking his view of the entrance.

A quiet cough was heard and he went completely rigid as the familiar voice spoke.

“Ah, I hope I’m not interrupting anything, but I came to see if I could take Guerrero to the cafeteria for a late lunch?”

Nash grunted and backed off. “You’re not interrupting anything, but I appreciate your manners. You should pass them onto your ‘friend’ here,” he muttered, going to the master bedroom.

Eddie swallowed and pulled his sweatpants back up, shame wrapping around him. Not only did he allow himself to be vulnerable, but he also came close to giving up and stop fighting.

A light hand gently touched his shoulder and he flinched, cursing at himself inwardly. Damn, he really needed to be more aware of his surroundings.

“Do you want to change before we head out?” Chris asked softly.

Eddie looked at the Canadian blankly, not comprehending. Then he remembered that his shirt was in ruins. “I probably should do that, huh,” he mumbled, but he made no move to go in the bedroom to get a new one. He glanced uneasily in that direction, not wanting to be anywhere near Kevin.

“I’ll go get it. The room’s over there right?” Chris murmured, walking through the door. He gave a polite nod to Nash and grabbed a white tee shirt from the closet.

“I need to talk to you later about something, but for now, get that brat out of my sight,” Nash growled, making the bed and cleaning up the desk.

Chris blinked and said “yes sir,” before returning to his friend. Geez, Eddie must had really pissed off Kevin if the blonde was that terse. He hesitated when he saw the latino sitting on the floor by the kitchen. “Hey,” he whispered, not wanting to startle the smaller man.

Eddie jumped at the soft voice and glanced up shakily, seeing the shirt. He took it, muttering an ungracious “thanks” as he quickly changed.

Chris waited patiently. He knew Eddie was still angry with him, yet he couldn’t help but hate the haunted look in the dark brown eyes.

“Let’s get out of here,” Eddie grumbled, standing on his feet and brushing the dirt off of his clothes.

Chris hummed his agreement and they left the apartment room out into the hallway.

Uneasy silence fell onto the two men, and for the first time in the fourteen years of friendship, Chris felt uncomfortable. He took a deep breathe. He might as well get it out.

“I’m sorry.”

Eddie stopped walking and looked at the Canadian, confused.

“I -- I know that I’ve betrayed your trust. I’ve hurt you. I know you’re not going to forgive me any time soon, if ever. I’m sorry. If I wasn’t forced to do this, I sure as hell wouldn’t let Nash treat you that way, but I have to provide for my family. Christ, I don’t know what the right thing to do is anymore,” Chris rambled, stumbling over his words and running his hand through his hair fretfully.

Eddie stood still, his head spinning as he took all the information in. He hadn’t realized how stressful this nightmare had been for Chris. He suspected that if he was in his friend’s shoes, he would have made the same choices.

But one thing bothered him still.

“D-Did you mean what you said in the bathroom?” he asked. He sensed it was a heat-in-the-moment thing, but he had to make sure.

Chris frowned, uncertain of what the latino was referring to. Then the memory came flooding back to him in all its vividity and details.

_“Maybe I should do what those men did to you, and maybe that’ll just straighten you out!”_

__

He closed his eyes, regret piercing through him. The raw terror on Eddie’s face at those words will follow him to his grave. He’ll never forgive himself for saying such a cruel threat. “No. I -- I never should have said that. I said -- I was so angry at everything. I just lashed out, but that’s no excuse. God, I’m sorry. I wish I could take it back. I would never do such a thing to you,” he swore tearfully.

Eddie considered that admission for a moment, relief coursing through him. He was still upset with Benoit, but he felt much better now that he was aware of the Canadian’s intentions. “Let’s go eat, I’m starving,” he complained, tugging Chris’ arm down the hallway towards the elevator.

Chris smiled, feeling lighter for the first time in days. He knew he wasn’t forgiven and that it would be a while before the trust was back, but the simple fact the younger man was willing to have a conversation with him was enough to make him happy.

They made their way to the cafeteria on the first floor. “Get whatever you want, it’s on my tab,” Chris murmured, scanning the place with wary eyes. The entire complex was teeming with perverts who wouldn’t hesitate to get their hands on Eddie, especially when they find out what the smaller man was here for. He would have to keep the other wrestler near him at all times outside of the apartment.

Eddie went to the Deli section with Benoit close behind him. After he got his turkey club sandwich and a water bottle, they walked towards one of the lines for the cashier. “That’s all you’re getting? I thought you said you were starving,” Chris commented, one eyebrow raised up critically. It was subtle, but he can tell that the latino had lost some weight.

Eddie shrugged. “I’m not that hungry actually," he lied. In truth, he was ravishing, but he didn’t know what awaited him back at Kevin’s place. If Nash was going to continue what was left off, then he rather have it happen on an empty stomach.

Chris grunted quietly and paid for the food. They sat down at the table closest to the exit.

Eddie ate dutifully, keeping his eyes downcast. It was strange being outside in public, it made his skin itch.

Chris continued watching the area, his eyes locking in on a group hovering nearby. The hairs on the back of his neck bristled at the way they were staring at his friend. He scooted closer and wrapped his arm protectively around the waist.

Eddie stiffened and threw a bewildered glance at Chris.

“Just stay calm. I don’t trust those men over there,” Chris whispered.

Eddie followed the blue gaze and shivered when he saw the group. He swallowed heavily and looked down.

Chris tightened his arm, trying to offer comfort. “Don’t worry, I’ll keep you safe,” he promised.

A slight spark of anger lit up in Eddie, but he didn’t say anything. He was more pissed at himself than Benoit really.

“Let’s get out of here. I probably should take you back,” Chris sighed, standing up.

Eddie nodded and quickly finished the rest of his sandwich, downing the remaining water in the bottle, before he followed Chris out of the cafeteria.

The walk back to the fifth floor was uneventful, but the tension in the air was thick.

Once they reached the door, Chris knocked and turned around to face the latino, about to say something. His heart ached at the haunted look that had returned to the chestnut eyes. He knew he was taking his friend into a kind of hell.

Just then, the door opened and Nash was looking at them, drinking a beer bottle.

“Back already?” Kevin barked. “Come on in. Chris, I need to talk to you.”

Chris bit back a retort and gestured for Eddie to go in first.

Eddie walked inside, trying to hide his shivers. He watched Nash carefully -- the big man had completely changed in the past hour. The playful demeanor was replaced with this cold behavior. He must be going crazy, but he wished the mocking asshole was back. He would take the teasings over this.

Chris followed Nash into the office adjacent to the bedroom, closing the door shut.

Kevin studied the stout wrestler for a brief moment, his head buzzing from the alcoholic beverage he was consuming. “I need your help with the training tomorrow.”

Chris went rigid, horror engulfing him. “Wh-What’s that supposed to mean?” he stammered.

Kevin shrugged nonchalantly. “He’s not ready for clients yet. His attitude is cute and all, but it’s proving to be troublesome. You and others need to curb it and make him as compliant as possible,” he explained.

Chris stood there, speechless as the monster finally revealed itself. There was no way he could do such a thing -- not after he promised Eddie. He may need the money, but he couldn’t sacrifice his humanity for it. “I-I can’t do that, sir. Surely there are other people more qualified,” he protested.

“Ah, but you know him best. You know how to break him,” Kevin growled, “This is an order, do it or else the consequences won’t be pretty for either of you.”

Chris glared at the bastard. “I won’t. You can’t make me,” he spat.

The corner of Nash’s mouth twitched and he grunted. “Guerrero,” he called out, his voice booming.

Chris narrowed his eyes suspiciously. _‘What the hell is he up to now?’_

The door opened and Eddie peeked in.

“Come here,” Nash ordered, snapping his fingers impatiently.

An irked expression split across Eddie’s face but he said nothing as he walked over to the pendejo.

“I’m not going to say it again. Be here tomorrow,” Kevin spoke, looking calmly at Benoit.

Chris steeled himself, meeting the dark gaze unflinchingly. It didn’t matter if his job was threatened or if he was beaten up, he will not lay a hand on his best friend. “Go fuck yourself,” he replied, his voice just as soft and steady.

Eddie glanced at the Canadian, confusion washing over him. What were they talking about? Suddenly there was a blur of movement and he was knocked to the ground. A hand gripped his crotch and he hissed angrily. Before he could start cursing at the pendejo, the hand squeezed and twisted mercilessly. Everything went white and the back of his head slammed against the floor as an agonized scream tore out of his throat.

Chris froze when Nash tackled the latino down on the carpet. He wasn’t expecting this, at all. Then his heart wrenched at the strangled shriek. “Stop it!” he cried out, trying to pull Kevin off of the younger man. Then the bastard’s arm swiveled and the screaming turned shrill, desperation coloring the noise. “ I said stop it! You’re hurting him!” Chris yelled, tugging harder and then punching Nash. He stopped when he saw the tears spilling down Eddie’s flushed face and he broke. “Please, I’ll do it. Just stop it. I’ll do whatever you want if you just stop,” he pleaded quietly. He’d do anything to stop the earsplitting wailing -- to stop the crying. He couldn’t take it.

Nash smirked at the words and he stood up, feeling pleased now that he’d gotten what he wanted. “Glad to hear that, Benny. Be here at 8:00 AM sharp or I’ll do something far more drastic,” he murmured, the threat clear in his eyes as he returned to the living room.

Chris collapsed on the floor next to his friend.

Eddie was curled up in a tight ball, mewling faintly and trembling in shock.

“Hey, come here,” Chris whispered hoarsely, holding his arms out. The smaller man crawled into his embrace, clutching at his shirt and crying into his chest. He murmured soft, comforting shushing words, rocking back and forth gently.

He thought this was hell when Nash first took over the company four days ago, but he was wrong.

  
This was much worse.

 

 

 

 

 

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	6. Training Session

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rey begins to unravel Nash's plan for the company and Eddie's worst fear comes true.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh dear, it's been a while since I've updated this story XD

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Rey blinked his eyes open, staring at the dark ceiling. Scott Hall had thrown him in a walk-in closet several days ago after Eddie had disappeared with Nash. The man had left him alone for the most part, letting him out every now and then to go to the bathroom and to eat. Nothing was explained to him, which only made him grow frustrated with each passing day.

All he did was sleep and look at the darkness in the closet. It was aggravating; not to mention he was worried sick about Eddie. He didn’t like the gleam in Nash’s eyes when he had carried the older latino out of the office that afternoon. He’d tried to ask Chris what was going on, but the Canadian only gave him a helpless glance before running after the two men.

The door opened, light pouring in. He sat up and winced against the brightness. A shadow outlined the door and he immediately recognized the bulky figure as Hall.

“Hey, shortstuff. Come out, Nash’s here to talk to you.”

Rey bit back a retort and got off of the makeshift cot, stepping out of the closet. He stretched his sore muscles and let out a sigh.

“Hey, brat.”

His skin bristled and he turned to face the bastard. “Kevin,” he growled.

Kevin smirked at the blatant hostility. “Easy now. I just want to talk, nothing too terribly strenuous,” he said, his tone light and teasing.

“What the hell did you do to Eddie?” Rey spat, his own voice tight with hatred.

Nash’s smile grew bigger. “Well, let’s just say it’s not going to be comfortable for him to sit down for a while,” he snickered.

Rey frowned, confused. _‘What the hell…?’_  Then he twitched when he caught on the hidden meaning underneath the words. Terror washed over him, tightening his gut and goosebumps breaking out all over his skin. His throat closed up and he fought to breathe for a minute. He scrambled backwards when Nash walked towards him, fear writhing around him in a cold embrace. “Y-You sick fuck,” he stammered.

“All I did was put him in his place. Now, do I have to do the same to you?” Nash grunted, crossing his arms.

Rey instantly shook his head, standing still. “No sir,” he replied hastily. Guilt sank in his chest, settling in like lead. He’d just gotten news about his best friend being wounded and the first thought that came to his mind was if the pendejo before him was going to do the same to him. But he couldn’t help it.

“Eh, so you gonna be a good little boy then, hm?” Nash muttered, growing bored. It was clear to him that the younger man was an obvious sub. He sighed and turned to face Scott. “Have you put him in ‘training’ yet?” he asked.

Hall shook his head. “I don’t think it’s necessary. He doesn’t seem the type to put up a fight so why bother?”

Nash nodded his head in agreement. “That’s true, but still, we don’t know how he’ll react to the clients. Better safe than sorry,” he glanced at his watch and groaned. “I’m gonna head out, I got a training to supervise. Scott, have him prepared by no later than this upcoming Friday,” he murmured, gesturing at Rey.

Scott nodded. “Will do,” he spoke quietly, watching the boss leave.

Rey flinched when the door slammed and he glanced at Hall anxiously. “What does he mean by clients and training, sir?” he asked, a slight tremor in his voice. He desperately wished Eddie was here by his side -- he always felt more at ease when the other latino was around.

“Well, let’s just say this business is no longer known as World Wrestling Entertainment.”

He blinked at the stalling tone within Scott’s words. It felt like the man didn’t want to explicitly answer his questions. “Then why am I here? I’m a wrestler -- it’s not like I have other marketable skills,” he pressed, wanting more out of this man.

Hall scratched his head awkwardly. He genuinely liked Rey -- the kid was respectful and obedient, even if the curiosity might prove to be troublesome. He really didn’t want to be the one to reveal Nash’s plans to the smaller man. He gave another vague shrug of his shoulders. “It’s not my place to tell you,” he finally said, not meeting the hazel glare.

Rey rolled his eyes, giving up. It was clear Scott wasn’t going to tell him anything useful. “Can’t we at least get out of the apartment? No offense, but I’m sick of being inside all the time,” he muttered, taking care to not sound too whiny.

Scott pursued his lips and thought for a couple of minutes. Nash did say something about overseeing a training. Perhaps the younger wrestler would get a glimpse at exactly what sort of business the NWO group was putting together. That way, he wouldn’t have to say anything because Rey would simply see what was going on. “Alright,” he agreed, going over to the front door to put his shoes on.

For the first time in days, Rey smiled and felt a small spark of delight. It’d be nice to get out of this stuffy place. “Thank you,” he said sincerely. It disgusted him deep down inside, however, to be in a role of something similar to a slave -- having to ask permission for everything -- but he didn’t see what other choices he had. For now, he had no way to escape, and even if he did, he wasn’t leaving without Eddie. At that, a lump formed in his throat. A voice in the back of his head whispered at a connection between Nash’s not-so-subtle statement about his dear friend and everything that was happening, but he couldn’t focus on the direction that vague thought was taking him.

They left the apartment and began walking down the hall. If Scott remembered correctly, the training area was on the third floor. He led Mysterio to the stairs and they went down four flights before reaching the designated hall.

Rey blinked when Scott got off on the third floor, but he followed the man anyway. It wasn’t as if he knew how to get out of this place on his own. An echoing noise caught his attention and he looked around, but he couldn’t locate where the sound was coming from. “What was that?” he asked aloud.

“This is the training area. You’re going to hear some...unusual stuff,” Scott answered simply, walking slowly.

“Training for what exactly?” Rey persisted, but he received no answer. He sighed frustratingly. The whole ambiguous act Hall was putting on pissed him off to no ends.

Then he heard another noise -- a distinct sound of a yelp -- and he felt his blood curl when he recognized the voice that cried out. “What exactly is going on here?” he growled, the soft words belying the cold anger seeping into his chest.

Scott glanced over his shoulder, keeping his face neutral and free of emotions. “Some people don’t always follow orders well, so we just have to discipline them every now and then.”

Rey snorted and glanced away, a cold shiver racing up his spine. Something caught his eyes and he gasped when he recognized someone in one of the rooms, the door slightly ajar. “No-” he cried out, but then Scott grabbed him and covered his mouth as he struggled to get to his friend.

“Stop it, you mustn’t interfere,” Hall growled, dragging the thrashing man away.

Rey reached out towards the room, biting down onto the hand. _‘Oh Dios, what in the hell is going on?!’_

 

****

 

Eddie swallowed back blood when an open palm smacked his cheek again, flinching a moment later when another pair of hands caressed his aching shoulders. Nash had carried him to this empty office a little over an hour ago and tied him down in the chair. The rest of the time was sent in him getting slapped and mocked at - a couple of unfamiliar men came in a few minutes ago to roughen him up. He jerked forward, gasping as a finger trailed down to his inner thighs.

“Relax, Eddie-boy. This is training, remember? Can’t have you being all tensed for the clients,” Kevin chuckled wryly, relishing in the distressed look on the younger wrestler’s face.

Eddie shut out Nash’s words, straining from the unwanted touches. “Go to hell and kiss Satan, you culo,” he spat, earning a punch to the face.

Kevin tutted and stood up from where he was sitting, walking over to the latino.

Eddie automatically tried to pull back when his chin was gripped and yanked upward, fear washing over him momentarily.

“You’d do well to keep your mouth shut, if you’re not blowing anyone. Little whores should be seen, not heard.”

He glowered darkly at the pendejo and twisted out of the grip. “I’ll kill you,” he growled.

“I don’t doubt it,” Nash said cheerfully with a smirk. He reached down to grab the edge of the chair between the other man’s legs and lifted it up violently, sending the wrestler crashing to the ground with it. “But how are you going to do that?” he laughed.

Eddie closed his eyes to shut out the white blinding him from the pain flaring where the back of his head had hit the concrete floor. Then panic constricted his chest when he felt someone unzipping his pants and tugging it down. “No!” he cried out, struggling furiously against the thick ropes that bound his wrists and ankles. “Please stop! _Deténgase!”_

Kevin ignored the pleas, helping his employees pull the pants all the way down to the feet. He glanced at his watch, frowning when he realized it was 8:02. The Canadian still hadn’t shown up. “Where’s Chris? He should be here by now,” he grumbled.

Eddie froze, forgetting how to breathe for a moment. “W-What?” he panted, his stomach tightening into a knot of fear. _‘Why would Chris be here? Unless --’_

“Oh, how rude of me. Didn’t I tell you? He’s supposed to help out with your training today,” Nash murmured, smiling when he noticed the stunned stare.

Shock whipped through Eddie and he flinched, blinking to hold back the tears stinging his eyes. Benoit had promised not to do the same thing to him. _‘Did he lie to me?’_ He didn’t want to dwell on it - didn’t want to admit it, but the thought of his best friend touching him like….like how the others had...made him want to wither away.

“Alright, take his boxers off and let’s get started. I’m going to look for Benoit,” Nash ordered to the men, going towards the door.

“No! Get away from me, bastardos!” Eddie spat, fighting again. He let out a broken sob when the pendejos shamelessly groped the front of his shorts.

“Ah, sorry I’m late.”

The soft words caused his stomach to lurch and he slammed his eyes shut, not wanting to show his hurt at Chris’ betrayal.

Chris felt something inside him die when he saw the way his dear friend being taken advantage of in that vulnerable state.

“Just in time, you’re lucky I’m feeling generous today or I’d already have punished him by now,” Nash murmured, gesturing at the other workers to stop. “Jerry, Gerald, come. You can go now.”

Chris swallowed his anger down and stepped back to allow the bastards to leave the room. He glanced helplessly at the latino who was still on the floor; he stiffened when he realize Kevin had tied the smaller man to the chair. _‘Fucking asshole,’_ he thought to himself as he hastily upright Eddie. “Are you okay? What did they do to you?” he asked worriedly, mentally cataloging the bruises and cuts on the face and storing it in his mind so that he would serve revenge to all these perverted fuckers.

Eddie snapped out of his stupor and ducked his head down, shaking under the bonds. “What are you doing here?” he whispered, desperately hoping what Kevin told him was a lie.

Chris sighed and rubbed his jaw. This wasn’t going to be easy to explain, not with Eddie’s already tattered trust in him as it is. “Nash asked me to come today,” he mumbled, his heart breaking at the blank look in the normally-sparkling brown eyes. He was expecting hatred, anger the very least, not this -- not the apathy. Somehow, the resignation made everything worse.

“Oh,” Eddie muttered, lowering his gaze. _‘So it’s true then.’_ he didn’t see the point in struggling any longer. He was trapped and he wasn’t going to escape on his own so he might as well accept his fate.

“Please understand that I don’t want anything to do with this,” Chris murmured quietly, touching his friend’s shoulder.

“If that’s true, then you wouldn’t be here,” Eddie stated flatly, shrugging the hand off.

Chris closed his eyes, ignoring the pain that pierced his chest. He knew the other man was right. “Please, it’s not as easy as that,” he began.

“Alright, ladies! Let’s get started,” Nash boomed, strutting around. He blinked in surprise when he noticed how despondent Eddie was. He chortled in amusement and moved in, pinching his toy’s cheek. “If this is all that it took to make you quiet, I should have tried this ages ago,” he quipped.

Chris clenched his teeth and fought hard to not attack the jerk. “What exactly do you need me to do?” he hissed, his words being colored with barely-suppressed anger.

Kevin smirked and jabbed a thumb towards Guerrero. “Just need you to teach a few things about the fine arts.”

Eddie frowned faintly, not understanding the pendejo’s words. He glanced up, but his only answer was Kevin’s cocky smirk.

Chris was lost. What fine arts was Nash blabbing about?

“I mean, after all,” Kevin drawled, walking around the Canadian. “What better use for his mouth?”

Chris went rigid, too disgusted to speak. “There is no way I’m doing that,” he growled, shivering slightly. How could he do such a thing to Eddie, his dearest friend?

Nash raised an eyebrow and tutted. “What a shame. I don’t want to cause any further damage, but if you won’t follow orders, then I have no choice,” he sighed, going over to the closet to grab something.

“Wha-” Chris’ question died off when Kevin stepped out, holding a poker. He stared bewilderingly at the man; there was no fireplace so what was the purpose? He heard a frightened whimper. Turning around, he was dismayed to find that the latino’s face was ashen. Whatever the poker was for, Eddie clearly knew the purpose behind it.

“I guess it’s a good thing - he’s probably tight by now. I may have to loosen him up a little,” Nash murmured, grinning ear to ear as he came closer.

Eddie jerked backwards, shaking his head frantically. “No! Por favor, don’t!” he begged, a panic attack bubbling up. Nash had shoved the damn thing inside him shortly after he was dragged into the office - his boxers were still soaked with the blood dripping between his legs. He let out a mewl when the end of the poker nudged against his belly.

Chris bristled and pushed the bastard way, standing protectively in front of his friend. “Stay the fuck away from him,” he spat.

Nash only chuckled and crossed his arms. “Maybe I will or maybe I won’t, but I do mean what I said if you don’t do what I tell you.” He was having a bit too much fun with this toying with the former wrestlers.

Chris growled in frustration, casting a glance at the latino behind him. He knew Kevin was sincere, would carry out the threat, but he didn’t see how he could do this.

“I guess I have to do everything myself,” Nash groused, rolling his eyes at the pitiful state of the two men before him -- Chris indecisive and hesitant, Eddie anxious and trembling. He made a move towards the restrained wrestler when Benoit cut him off again.

“Wait! I’ll do it, just leave him alone,” Chris muttered. He never hated himself as much as he did now. The shame he felt was enough to make him want to kill himself

Eddie swallowed when his friend turned around to face him, keeping his eyes lowered. “Just get it over with,” he whispered almost inaudibly.

Chris shook his head angrily, tear prickling his eyes. “I’m so sorry, cherie. Jesus, this is so fucked up.”

Eddie flinched when he heard pants being unzipped, his breathing turning ragged as he realized what was about to happen. “I’ve never done this before,” he blurted out, shutting his eyes.

Chris went still, looking at the smaller man in disbelief, guilt making him flushed when he saw how red and frightened Eddie was. _‘No one’s first time should ever be like this,’_ he thought, feeling sick to his core. “I’m not going to be rough --” he choked off, clenching his fists. _‘This is really fucked up.’_

“Come on, hurry up! I don’t want to be here all day,” Nash called out, snapping his fingers.

Chris shot a nasty glare at the asshole and took in a deep breath, he couldn’t let his anger emerge now. He glanced up at the ceiling in misery. _‘Might as well get this over with.’_ With that thought, he pulled his pants down.

Eddie couldn’t hold back a whimper when a hand caressed his cheek, fear and resignation wreathing around him.

“I-If you want, I can...I can make you feel good,” Chris offered, blushing and shuffling on his feet. He was disheartened when Eddie recoiled away from him, eyes glazed with terror and pleas tumbling out of the trembling lips.

“No! Don’t - Don’t do that, please! I-I can’t,” Eddie cried out, panting and straining against the bonds to the point his wrists were starting to bleed. “Don't.” He can’t go through that again, he didn’t want to be forced to come again. He just wanted to wake up from this nightmare. “Please _don’t.”_

“Okay, okay. I won’t do that, I promise. I’m sorry,” Chris amended hastily, his forehead gently brushing against the latino’s, his soul twisting at the hyperventilating. “I’m sorry.”

Eddie shivered, his breaths stabilizing briefly at the contact and he sagged against the arms wrapped around him in a hug. “I want to go home.”

The childlike confession almost broke Chris’ composure, but he fought to remained calm. _‘You have to be strong, if you break down now...’_ He swallowed hard and let out another sigh.

Kevin groaned loudly, reaching the edges of his patience. “What’s taking you so damn long to get the show rolling -- ah,” he stopped when his cell went off with a text notification. He frowned at the message. “Goddammit, today’s not my day,” he cursed, “I’ll be right back, don’t go anywhere.” He left the room, slamming the door shut.

Chris blinked in surprise at the sudden leave. _‘That was unexpected.’_ An idea suddenly popped in his head - it was risky, bordering on stupid, but it was better than staying here where he’d be forced to hurt Eddie. He tilted his friend’s chin up, wincing at the faint “No” that arose in protest. “What do you say about getting out of here?” he whispered.

Eddie stared at the Canadian in incomprehension, not understanding what Benoit actually meant. Then his eyes sparkled with guarded hope. “You think we have a chance?”

“I don’t know, to be honest. But it’s worth a shot, so?”

“Hell yes, let’s do it,” Eddie hissed, his body going stiff with adrenaline pumping through his muscles.

“Okay. Hold on, I gotta untie you first,” Chris murmured, pulling his pants back up before he grabbed a pair of scissors from an abandoned desk and began working at the ropes.

Eddie gave a quick look to the door every few seconds to make sure no one was coming. His heart was hammering wildly in his chest, he was surprised Benoit didn’t hear it.

Chris finally cut the last strand off and carefully placed his hand on a knee. “Can you walk?”

“I-I think so,” Eddie mumbled, grimacing as the bigger man helped him get to his feet. He swayed a little, Chris catching him before he fell flat on his face. “Lo siento.”

“Don’t be, you’re fine,” Chris spoke, his fingers trailing at a shallow cut on the side of the latino’s neck. “I’m going to have to take you to a doctor later. You might have infections.”

Eddie’s face turned pink and he looked away. “Yeah,” he spoke softly, already dreading that visit.

“Let’s get out of here. I know a route to the garage, we won’t run into anyone,” Chris muttered, supporting Eddie as the walked out of the room.

_‘Let us escape please,’_ he prayed fervently.

He really didn’t want to have Eddie go through any more hell than what his friend already had been through. He glanced sideways at the shorter man, biting on his lip when he noticed just how much pain Eddie was in -- he was walking with a limp, leaning awkwardly on Chris.

  
Together, they slowly made their way down the empty hallway **.**

 

 

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	7. Caught in Mid-Sprint

 

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Chris managed to find an elevator that would take them to a parking lot. He went inside and helped Eddie lean against the wall. “Don’t worry, we’re almost there,” he reassured the latino, pushing the ‘P’ button.

Eddie nodded, swallowing hard, pushing away his anxiety. His head was spinning as exhaustion and sleep deprivation caught up to him. He was looking forward to resting in a peaceful hotel room away from all the violence and pain that he had come to expect. “Where did you park?” he asked, trying to spark a conversation. He didn’t like the silence.

“In the E lot, it’s not a far walk I think,” Chris answered, studying his friend in concern. The smaller man seemed to be withdrawn and frazzled. He could tell Eddie was unsteady from the way the other wrestler was swaying on his feet. “I’m taking you to a doctor as soon as we get out of here,” he added.

Eddie went rigid and shook his head frantically, shooting Benoit a pleading glance. A doctor was the last person he wanted to see. “No, please. Can’t we just go someplace so I can sleep? Not today - I don’t want to go to a clinic, please. _Por favor,_ Chris,” he begged, cringing internally at how pathetic he sounded, but he didn't care. He didn’t want a stranger, or anyone for that matter, looking down there.

Chris hesitated, not sure what he should do. On one hand, he knew that Eddie desperately needed somebody to examine the injuries lest they want to risk infections. On the other hand, however, he didn't want to force his friend to do anything that was uncomfortable. _‘He’s already been through enough,’_ he thought broodingly. He let out a sigh. “Okay, but we have to get you checked out soon. Not today, but soon,” he gave in.

Eddie nodded, feeling beyond relieved. “ _Gracias_ ,” he murmured.

The elevator bell dinged and the doors opened to reveal the dimly-lit parking lot.

“We’re in C, it’s only a few minutes walk from where my car is,” Chris spoke quietly, gently guiding the latino down the road. He noticed the way Eddie was holding his hand so tightly that it felt numbed, but he didn't comment. _‘I’d be terrified too.’_

Eddie fought to keep his breathing under control. _‘Calm down, being scared won’t solve anything,’_ he chided himself, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t get rid of the fear and panic. Only the firm touch of Benoit’s hand around his own kept him from bolting.

Around five minutes had passed before they found Chris’ dark blue Honda. Chris opened the passenger door to let the other man get in.

A thought suddenly occurred to Eddie and he pulled away when he was tugged. “Wait! I can’t leave Rey here,” he protested.

“What?!” Chris hissed, staring at Eddie bewilderingly.

“I can’t leave him,” Eddie insisted, moving even further away when the Canadian reached out for him.

“Eddie, the longer we stay here, the lower our chance is to escape. We have to leave now.”

“Not without Rey.”

“Goddammit, are you out of your fucking mind?!”

Eddie flinched and looked down, trembling a little. “No. I can’t leave without Rey. I won’t be able to live with myself if I let him stay with those bastardos,” he muttered, clenching his hands into fists.

Chris groaned, frustration mounting inside, and he ignored the urge to shove his best friend into the car and hightailed it out of this blasted place. “If we get caught, I won’t be able to help you,” he warned.

“That’s fine, ese. Your job is more important than me and Rey, I get it.”

The snarky words and the stress got the better of him, and he jerked a finger under the latino’s chin, Guerrero backing up with a flinch. “That’s not it! If I really cared about the fucking job, I wouldn’t be risking it trying to get you out of here. I would have done what he told me to do to you back there, but I didn’t. So don’t you ever fucking say that ever again!” he spat, glaring harshly at the other man.

Eddie was pressed against a truck, staring at Benoit with wide, frightened eyes. He gave a meek nod when the Canadian was finished. “I-I’m sorry,” he stammered, shivering under the stern gaze.

Chris scowled and turned away. He knew he owed Eddie an apology for the way he spoke, but it would have to wait. He popped the trunk open and grabbed two jackets. “Here, put this on and put the hoodie over your head too, that way no one will recognize us right away,” he grumbled, tossing a dark grey one at the other wrestler.

“‘kay,” Eddie mumbled, putting his arms through the sleeves and zipping the jacket up. “Scott Hall is with Rey-Rey, right?”

“Yeah, I think he’s on the fifth floor,” Chris replied, locking his car and pushing his key in the pocket. “Let’s go.”

Eddie followed the older man, growing confused when they headed to the stairs. “Why don’t we take the elevator? It’s faster.”

“Because we risk being seen. At least with the stairs, we can hide if someone comes our way,” Chris answered, opening the door.

“Oh,” Eddie mumbled. _‘I should have known that, dumbass,’_ he scolded himself, feeling sheepish.

Chris cursed internally. This was stupid - Eddie needed to get out of here ASAP. He didn’t even want to think what Nash would do if they got caught. _‘Don’t focus on that.’_

No sooner did they make it past the second flight of stairs, a door opened. Chris slammed Eddie against a corner shrouded in darkness.

Eddie bit back a yelp, shuddering when he felt something tore; he could feel a sticky sort of wetness trickling down his legs.

Chris ignored the trembles, sending a hasty prayer when he heard footsteps. Thankfully, whoever it was went upstairs. He waited until he heard the telltale sound of a door opening and closing. He moved away from where he was squeezed next to the latino. “Alright, let’s go. Hopefully no one else will come,” he whispered.

Eddie gave a small nod and walked up the stairs behind Benoit. He let out a hiss when pain shot up from his lower body, but quickly made his expression neutral when the Canadian glanced at him.

“You okay?”

“Si, don’t worry about me,” Eddie responded, waving his hand dismissively. He didn’t want his friend to think that he was too weak to keep up. To his surprise, Chris turned around to face him.

“I’ll always worry about you,” Chris murmured, brushing a few strands of hair that were plastered against the other man’s forehead. “I always have. You’re important to me.”

Eddie felt his heart fluttered at those words and his skin heated up, but he shook it off. _‘I’m just tired and disoriented,’_ he half convinced himself, pushing away the strange warmth in his chest.

Chris began walking once again, unaware of the affect he had on Eddie. He wasn’t sure if they were going to be successful in getting Rey and escaping, but he damn will try. A little voice in the back of his mind, however, whispered that this was a big mistake. He forced the discouraging thought out of his head and focused on the task at hand. He opened the door to the fifth floor. “I know he’s around here somewhere. Stay close to me,” he muttered.

Eddie mumbled a quiet “okay” as he stayed on Benoit’s heels.

“Where the hell is Hall staying at,” Chris murmured, half to himself as he struggled to remember the room number.

“Looking for me?”

He stiffened and whirled around, hastily shoving Eddie behind him. “Yes I am, actually,” he answered, grateful that his tone stayed calm.

Scott raised an eyebrow and walked towards the two men. “Well, you found me. What can I do for you?” he asked, narrowing his eyes at the smaller man behind Benoit. “Is that Guerrero?”

Chris gritted his teeth, biting back a curse. Damn this man. “What does it matter to you?” he growled.

Scott sighed impatiently and pushed the Canadian out of the way. “I don’t have time to play games. It’s best if you’re truthful with me,” he stated matter-of-factly. He grasped the hoodie of the jacket and took it off, recognizing the latino. “I’m surprised Kevin allowed him to go on a field trip since he’s supposed to be in training.”

Chris blinked, inhaling sharply when he realized the implications behind Hall’s words. “He wants to see Rey,” he offered, shooting a warning glare at Eddie. He could tell his best friend was uncomfortable with the situation, but they had no choice.

Eddie glanced suspiciously at the bigger man, shifting backwards to create distance between them. “What do you want?” he spat, ignoring the groan from Benoit. Call him paranoid, but he didn’t trust Chris’ instincts.

“I just want to know why you’re not with Nash. I doubted he would have been finished with you so soon, knowing him,” Scott murmured wryly, meeting the spiteful gaze. He grudgingly had to admire the fighting spirit, even if it was foolhardy. Kevin was nothing if not methodical when it came to discipline. It wouldn't be long till the latino was submissive.

“Maybe he got his cajoles kicked up his ass.”

He snorted, amusement washing over him. Yeah, he definitely liked this kid. “The smart thing would be to leave.”

“Not without Rey.”

“For fuck’s sake, Eddie, don’t be stupid!” Chris interjected, grabbing the latino’s shoulders furiously.

“What makes you think I’ll help you?” Scott commented, looking at Guerrero curiously.

“You clearly ain’t turning us in, so you’re not a culo like that jackass,” Eddie explained, jutting his chin out defiantly, daring Hall to contradict him.

Scott stared, baffled, at the younger wrestler before cracking up. “Boy, you really are something,” he stifled a chuckle.

Eddie bristled, but before he could spit out a rude retort, he heard Chris cussed in French.

Scott’s smile disappeared when he followed Benoit’s gaze, spotting Kevin stalking down the hall towards them. “You two keep quiet,” he ordered quietly.

Eddie froze up, trembling when he saw the fury on Nash’s contorted face. _‘oh Dios.’_

“You’ll be lucky if you can walk by the time I’m done with your stupid ass, you fucking little shit,” Kevin roared, grabbing the collar of Guerrero’s jacket and throwing the smaller man against the wall.

“Wait!” Chris protested, moving in to get between the bastard and his friend, but he was stopped by a finger jabbing at his chest.

“Stay out of this, you pathetic fuck,” Kevin barked, turning around and looking disdainfully at Eddie who had crumbled to the floor. “You really don’t learn anything, do you?” he scoffed, nudging his foot against the cracked ribs.

Eddie cried out in pain, curling up and trying to dislodge the pendejo off of him.

Kevin rolled his eyes and stepped back. “Take them to the basement,” he ordered the other men who had accompanied him. He glanced at Hall. “What were you doing?”

Scott shrugged. “I ran into them. I didn’t know what they were doing on this floor,” he replied.

Eddie yelped when he was forced to his feet, being pushed forward. He glanced over his shoulder, meeting Benoit’s worried blue eyes.

Chris swallowed when he saw the faint fear on his dear friend’s face. “It’ll be --” he cut himself off. ‘ _No, it won’t be okay,’_ he thought, dread lining his stomach as they were marched down to the elevators.

 

  
All he could do is pray that Kevin will be lenient with them, but he had a sinking feeling that everything was about to hit the fan.

 

 

 

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	8. The Welcome Embrace of Darkness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear to god if the fucking campus Wi Fi goes out for the second time while I'm uploading this chapter, I'm going to fucking murder something.

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The walk to the basement had been dreadfully silent and Chris had to bite on his tongue not to talk. It was already clear that Nash would hurt Eddie in response to his actions so he shut up, not wanting to cause his friend further grievances. _'I knew it. We should have left as soon as we had the opportunity,'_ he cursed inwardly, regretting looking for Rey. ' _We could have been at a hotel safely by now.'_

 

Eddie was quiet, not smarting off for once. He knew Nash was beyond pissed and he felt sick with apprehension as he thought about what sort of punishment the bastardo will dish out. _'I knew we shouldn't have talked to Hall,'_ he groaned in his head. That pendejo only slowed them down and got them caught. He threw a hateful glare to the back of Scott's head. If that man forced Rey to go through the shit he did ... He would flay Hall alive and rip the skin off the bones. His thoughts were disrupted when one of the men holding him leaned in and the lips brushed against his ear. He went rigid, his mind going blank with unbridled terror at the close contact.

 

 

"I bet we're gonna have a lot of fun with you, eh?"

 

The gravely voice made him flinch and he resisted the urge to bolt, knowing he wouldn't escape. A couple of his ribs were definitely fractured and he was having trouble breathing properly - he couldn't afford to run, no matter how loud his brain was screaming at him to get away, to do _something_. "Keep your hands off of me," he hissed, jerking away from the pervert.

 

"Did you say something, Guerrero?" Kevin called out, looking over his shoulder to glower at the Latino.

 

Eddie blanched and looked down, clamping his mouth shut and blushing furiously when the man behind him backed off with a chortle.

 

"I thought not. Now behave yourself," Nash muttered, turning around to resume his conversation with Scott. It was embarrassing, and a mockery to his authority at how these two runts came close to escaping. He couldn't let this fly by. ' _They'll be an example to the others,'_ he thought, clenching his jaw to suppress a smirk from spreading across his face. He was rather looking forward to the discipline. If all goes well, the little Latino fuck won't be a problem much longer.

 

"Something on your mind?" Hall asked, spotting the maniac light in his friend's eyes. He couldn't help but feel sorry for the two wrestlers behind him; Nash was not someone you cross and get away with it unscathed.

 

"Just a touch of excitement for what's ahead," Kevin explained, not bothering to hide his smile anymore. He'd recently hired a couple of people to carry out the punishments, and he couldn't wait to see what they would come up with this.

 

Scott rolled his eyes fondly at the blond. "Just don't get carried away," he teased, elbowing Nash playfully.

 

They all made it to the basement. Nash opened the door and ushered everyone in before closing it.

 

Hall became concerned when he noticed the way Eddie was breathing haggardly. "Hold on, come here," he beckoned at the smaller wrestler.

 

Eddie hesitated and walked over carefully to Scott, unsure of what the culo wanted from him.

 

"Lift your shirt. I need to check something."

 

He froze, backing away and shaking his head frantically. Panic exploded and he found himself pressed against the wall in a corner. Why did Scott, out of all people, wanted to touch him?

 

Chris instinctively tried to move closer, affected by his best friend's distress. He growled low in his throat when he was held back. "You lay a hand in him and I will end your life!" He spat, fighting against the grip.

 

"Oh, do shut up," Nash barked at the Canadian before he glanced curiously at Scott. "Why you itching to check him?"

 

"Just humor me," Hall answered, getting closer to the Latino and holding his hands up cautiously. It seemed that the younger man was having trouble distinguishing clinical touches from lecherous ones. He would have to chide Kevin for that later, but right now he had a bigger fish to fry. "Easy there, I'm not gonna grope you," he promised, making sure he sounded gentle, non-threateningly.

 

Eddie stared distrustingly at the man, not moving from the spot he'd trapped himself in. "What do you want?" He asked, full of suspicion.

 

Nash narrowed his eyes and moved in, ignoring Scott's hiss. He pinned Eddie against the tiled surface, smirking at the face pitched in pain as he lifted the smaller body up by the neck. "Perhaps you're too dense, but when you're ordered to something, then you _fucking do it_ without being a whiny bitch. Comprehendo?" his words contorted into a snarl as his smile disappeared. He took an odd delight in how the brown eyes widen in fear. There was none of that sarcastic remarks now -- only trembling. "Now, are you going to be a good boy and let Scottie here take a look at you, or do I need to teach you another lesson?"

 

Eddie stood still, petrified by an overwhelming sense of terror when he felt Kevin's hand lingering on his hip as the grip on his throat slackened. He realized with startlingly clarity exactly what kind of 'lesson' the man was referring to should he continue to defy the pendejo. He closed his eyes, ignoring the burning tears that threatened to flow down his cheeks, and swallowed his shame at being reduced to this quivering heap of a pathetic coward he'd become. Lifting his shirt up, he wondered what his brothers would say if they saw him now. _'They'd laugh at me.'_ His face flushed red when he heard leering whistles and he kept his eyes closed shut, feeling dirty and debased -- like he was nothing more than a worthless plaything to be chewed up and tossed around for people who were more animals than human.

 

Scott frowned and nudged Kevin out of the way so he could get a better look. The smaller man was breathing far too shallow than what was normal. He gently placed a hand on the side, focusing on the way the chest rose and fell with each shaky exhale. After a while, he withdrew his palm and looked at Nash sternly. "I think his ribs might be cracked or worse. He needs to see a doctor," he spoke quietly, ensuring his words only reached his friend.

 

Kevin groaned, glaring at Guerrero who shrank and refused to meet his eyes. "Always giving me trouble, aren't you, you piece of shit?" he spat viciously. He took in a deep breath and faced Hall again. "I won't be too rough, I'll get him checked out as soon as we're done."

 

Scott scoffed, unhappy with Kevin's decision, but he knew better than to argue. Once Nash's mind was set, there was no changing it. However, the business can't afford any investigation or police involvement. "If the bones puncture the lungs or worse.." He warned with a growl.

 

Kevin held his hands up placating. "Please have faith in me, old boy. I'll be careful, alright? Promise."

 

Scott sighed, giving up on trying to reason with his friend's logical side. He shot a glance at the Latino who was staring at him with anxious eyes. "Sorry, kiddo. You brought this on yourself," he murmured, feeling a pang of sympathy towards his former coworker. He went back up the stairs and left, not wanting to see the violence that was about to unfold. He simply didn't have the stomach for it.

 

Eddie turned his gaze towards Kevin, a feeling not quite unlike dread racing up his spine in a cold shiver when the man's eyes darkened, as if a storm was brooding across the coast.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Chris cried out hoarsely as he was held back by strong arms, watching Nash's fists slammed down into Eddie again and again, each assault drawing out a dry cry from his best friend and he could feel his heart shattering with every hit. He was forced to stay still, forced to see how the man whom he considered his brother, the other part of his soul, his lifeblood, get plummeted ruthlessly to the ground. Eddie had always been there for him, offering a hug or a warm smile whenever he had bad days -- who saved him -- and he was helpless to save Eddie now. He couldn't lift a finger to help the younger wrestler, and the worst part of it was that this was all his fault.

 

Had he just shoved Eddie into his car and drove off, they would be far far away from this madness - they could have been safe.

 

Instead, he was stuck here with tears pooling in his eyes and a broken voice jumbling out, begging Kevin to stop.

 

The guilt was enough to drown him.

 

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Nash relented and backed off, knuckles bloodied.

 

Eddie laid on the floor, wheezing and twitching with every gasp. His body felt numb and yet his skin was on fire, burning from deep within as pain blossomed around the bruises that colored his pale flesh. He rasped and coughed up blood, head spinning and ears ringing. He struggled to get on his knees, but the combination of nausea and vertigo caused him to lose his balance and he soon found himself back on the ground, his breaths coming in less and less.

 

Chris jerked forward again when he saw Eddie fall, every fiber in his being screaming need to get closer to the Latino, to hold him and make sure he was alright.

 

Kevin chuckled at the desperate, stricken look on Benoit's face. "You know, Benny, it's rather charming how worried you are about your boyfriend over there," he drawled, grinning at the furious way the blue eyes shot up to his own. "I don't understand you sometimes. In the wild, in nature, there are two types. One who's destined to be nothing more than a mate, something to be fucked for the rest of its miserable life. Then there's an Alpha who has unquestionable strength and character and respect. That's you, Chrissy. You can be anything you want to be, so why do you continue to hang around a little bitch like him when you're above him?" He questioned, studying the Canadian thoughtfully. It was truly intriguing. Guerrero was merely a weakling, a hapless annoying trash who was meant to be abused and thrown away. Benoit, on the other hand, was the very definition of a true man - the picture of civilization and distinguished class. It was bizarre how such a notable person like Chris would associate himself with a street rat like Eddie.

 

Chris could only stare wide-eyed at what seemed to be the definition of insanity before him. "W-What the hell? This ain't the wild. We're not animals and Eddie isn't some ... some toy to be played with!" He sputtered. This was ridiculous, even for Nash. He fiercely hoped this was just some nightmare he would wake up from -- there was no way this was really happening.

 

"Perhaps not, but we do have some base needs. Surely you cannot deny that. This is what the company is for - it's to satisfy men's unsavory urges," Kevin countered, a soft smile smoothing out his features.

 

"Wouldn't it be easier to hire people who willingly choose to provide the services?" Chris muttered, his gaze flickering over briefly to the stilled form on the floor.

 

"Oh? It's none of your concern, dear Benny. It won't be long until he's moaning and begging for it like the common whore he is. Maybe I'll be generous and give him to you once he's trained nice and properly," Nash purred sultrily. "There's a reason why he's one of the folks I've chosen to stay. He'd be a natural at it given the right push."

 

Chris looked back at Kevin, aghast and feeling absolutely sick to his core. "You're disgusting. I'll never treat him like that," he spat, horror sinking in his stomach.

 

Kevin only shook his head with a regrettable grin, appearing sorrowful. It reminded Chris of a snake. "You'll see. For now, go tend to your bitch."

 

Suddenly, Chris was free and he bounded over to the bleeding Latino. He gathered up the crumbled body in his arms, tears falling freely now as he took in all the bruises and cuts that covered his dear friend from face to stomach. "Oh, Eddie," he breathed, guilt returning with a stronger wave. "I'm so sorry, I'm so fucking sorry. It's my fault, I --" he choked on the rest of his words. He briefly wondered if it would have been better on them if he'd just followed Nash's orders back in the training room, but then he recalled the raw fear on Eddie when he was undressing and knew that no matter what that he could never bring himself to betray Eddie in such a way. He would never forgive himself if he'd chosen to go down that road, and any chances of their friendship being restored would have been irrevocably damaged with that one act.

 

Not that this path was any easier, with the smaller man scarcely breathing in his careful embrace. He brushed a few sweaty strands of hair away from the forehead and caressed a cheek, ignoring how the blood coated his palm. "Eddie, look at me please," he whispered.

 

Brown eyes fluttered open, once so full of love and laughter now glazed with pain and anguish, as they focused on his blue gaze.

 

He smiled tightly, his other hand grabbing the Latino's when Eddie reached out for him. "You okay, buddy?" He asked quietly, his voice light and soothing.

 

Eddie swallowed once and shook his head faintly. "N...No," he croaked, his throat strained and sore from crying. "Izzit o'er?" He was tired, wanting nothing more than to give in to the comforting blackness of sleep.

 

Chris panicked when he saw Eddie's eyes closing. "No, stay with me," he hissed, gently shaking a shoulder. He felt a stab of hot guilt when Eddie moaned, but he couldn't risk his friend passing out, not until they know the severity of the injuries. He pressed the back of his hand against the head, alarm bells ringing off when he noticed how hot the other wrestler was. "Shit, you have a fever. We need to cool you down. Stay with me," he murmured, forcing himself to stay calm.

 

Just then, Kevin came to his line of sight with a familiar face close behind. "What the fuck do you want now, you bastard?" He snarled, hysteria edging in. Surely Eddie would be left alone to recover -- there was no way his friend can take more punishments. Terror erupt from him when the Latino was ripped out of his arms and he launched himself forward blindly, straining for Eddie until he was tackled to the ground. "No!! Don't do anything to him, please! Will you look at him for God's sake?! He can't take any more. Leave him alone!!"

 

He didn't realize he was yelling until a beefy hand covered his mouth. Nash gave him an odd, bemused look.

 

"This isn't a punishment for him, kiddo, so much as it's a lesson for you," Kevin spoke, nodding over to the man who stood over Eddie's unconscious body.

 

Eddie came back to the world when icy water splashed over him. He gasped and shivered, cramped muscles seizing up and protesting when he tried to move. His vision blurred before it cleared and he saw someone looking down on him. His blood stopped cold when he recognized the imposing figure. "B-Brock?" He called out, teeth chattering.

 

Lesnar smirked, his face devoid of any humor. "How long can you hold your breath?"

 

An inkling of fear splotched Eddie's veins and he flinched as broad hands lifted him to his feet. "Why are y-you doing this?" He pleaded, praying for mercy that he knew the former wrestler wasn't willing to grant. He struggled uselessly as he was dragged over to a sink. The fear grew stronger and he whimpered when he was forced to lean over it, staring frantically at the water and fingers gripping his hair painfully. "Brock, pl-please. Don't."

 

"This is payback for the way you humiliate me at No Way Out," Lesnar hissed in the Latino's ear, enjoying the surge of power he felt when the smaller body trembled underneath his hands. "I'm going to enjoy every moment of this."

 

Chris screamed and fought against the men when he saw Lesnar shove Eddie's upper body under the water. "Stop! Stop it!! You're going to kill him!" he cried out, panting. He was scared, more scared than he'd ever been in his life - more scared than when his doctors told him he may never be able to wrestle after his neck surgery. The panic threatened to take over his mind. He can't lose Eddie. He can't, he just can't. He didn't want to live a life without his best friend to give it the vibrant colors he so desperately needed in this dull grey world. He couldn't survive alone - he wouldn't want to. Losing the Latino would be far worse than dying. "Stop!"

 

Irritated, Nash smacked the Canadian across the face, putting a halt to the frantic shouting. "Don't be stupid, I'm not gonna kill him, I need him for business. This is just a lesson."

 

Chris was rarely a violent person, but in that one moment, he never wanted someone as dead as he wanted Kevin, in the most sickening, slowest way as possible.

 

When Brock felt his prey going still, he hauled the spasming body out of the water.

 

Eddie coughed, dry retching as the first breaths of air made their way into his depleted lungs. Nails dug into his neck as Lesnar grabbed him again.

 

"Ready for round two?"

 

Eddie shook his head dazedly. "N..No, por favor --" his protest was swallowed up when water filled his mouth.

 

Again and again, Brock would dump him and draw him back out whenever he was close to drowning, each time leaving him more and more weak until he gave up. He'd long ago stopped begging, stopped fighting. He remained limp in the bigger man's grip, chin brushing against his chest as he stared despondently at the swirling water. His entire world had been narrowed down to this sink. The only thing that stayed was the intense fear that would take hold of him and caused him to jerk slightly away whenever his head was pushed closer to the black water.

 

He'd lost track of how often the cycle was repeated. In, out, can't breathe, gasping. Approaching blackness and then bright lights. Comforting numbness when his senses started to fade. White instanteous pain as icicles of air stabbed his chest with each inhale.

 

He heard a distant voice, too drained to decipher what it was saying. He was tossed unceremoniously onto the unforgiving floor, his wet cheek pressed against the tiles. Confusion swam over him. He wasn't to be forced into the water again? Did that mean it was over? He vaguely saw feet nearing him, a shoe nudging against his stomach.

 

"Any more outbursts from you, slut?"

 

Eddie shivered, cold seeping into his skin through his soaked clothes. "No, sir," he rasped, the exhaustion making his accent more pronounced.

 

"Oh? So you've learned your lesson then?"

 

Eddie _did_ learn. Any protests or struggle meant more pain, and he just wanted the pain to stop. "Yes, sir," he slurred tiredly. He felt fingers going between his legs and he looked away, turning his face as a faint hint of embarrassment washed over him, but he stayed still, not flinching as the caresses grew more invasive, more intimate. Being quiet and compliant meant he didn't have to go near the sink.

 

He was never going to take a bath or go swimming ever again.

 

Eventually, the hand drew away and the Speaker sounded pleased.

 

"Impressive. Nice job, Brock. Let's get him to a doc, hopefully he didn't break his ribs with all that thrashing."

 

There was furious yelling in the background that quickly turned into pleas. The man, the one who called him a slut, snapped at the voice. The pleas didn't stop, growing more and more insistent. He heard a loud sigh and a "fine" being uttered.

 

Eddie remained quiet when he felt gentle hands shifting him into a sitting position. He looked up weakly, barely keeping his head upright, as he saw kind blue eyes peering worriedly at him.

 

"Eddie? Are you with me? It's alright, I got you now."

 

He didn't answer. It was clear that if he spoke out of turn or made a wrong move, he would piss the Speaker off and he really _really_ didn't want to endure any more beating or drowning. He stared blankly at the man in front of him, curious at the concern in the warm gaze.

 

"What are you doing? Come on, hurry up!"

 

That was the Speaker, and Eddie recoiled, praying he wouldn't be punished again. Arms tightened around his frail body and he felt the blue-eyed man burying a kiss in his wet hair.

 

"Shh, it's okay, Eddie. I got you."

 

The soft voice, so unlike the Speaker's harsh one, soothed him. There seemed to be no threats of more pain, so he relaxed and closed his eyes, the world thankfully blending out into black and gray as he fell asleep.

 

 

* * *

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	9. Divide and Conquer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't think y'all understand how hard I'm laughing when I write this story because the concept of WWE being turned into a whorehouse is absolutely so ludicrous. XD

* * *

* * *

 

 

 

Nash had cruelly shaken awake Eddie from the slumber and forced the men to march back upstairs to go to the clinic.

Chris wanted to set fire on this cursed building, he wanted to destroy everyone, he wanted to run away, he wanted to do anything but look at the emotionless face of his best friend who’d been rendered mute. No matter what he said, every time he called out, he was responded with a blank stare and a tilted head. It was tearing him apart from the inside and he wanted to cry at the injustice of it all.

It’d been a week since Nash and Hall took over the company, a week of their lives thrown into hell, and Chris wasn’t sure how much longer he can last. His eyes flickered over to Eddie worryingly. He doubted the latino even recognize him, or the others. The smaller man had quietly referred to Kevin as “the Speaker” in a soft voice full of fear. He was terrified that Eddie had been left so traumatized to the point where he was now suffering from amnesia. Benoit can only hope this effect was temporary.

Lord knows he can’t take all of this for long.

He glanced at the door on his right when it opened to reveal a nurse. They’d been in the waiting room for a few minutes after Nash had transferred them to the clinic, muttering something about ribs. Chris felt a powerful surge of hate slamming into him. He never despised anyone as much as he did Kevin.

What that bastard did to Eddie alone...he was going to enjoy taking his revenge sweet and slow.

“Alright, we can see Mr. Guerrero now,” the nurse spoke, holding a clipboard as she scanned the room for the patient.

Chris started to stand up, intending on accompanying his friend, but then Nash glared at him.

“You’re not going anywhere. Stay.”

He growled, clenching his hands into fists. “There’s no way in hell I’m letting him out of my sight,” he spat, bristling when the jackass only snorted.

“You lost that right when you tried to escape. You’ll be lucky if you’ll ever see him again once we’re done here,” Kevin jeered, his mouth twisted into a snarl as he brushed past the Canadian.

Chris watched Nash steer Eddie to where the nurse was, a hand on the small of the back while the Latino flashed a curious gaze at Benoit over one shoulder.

For the first time in Chris’ life, he felt helpless, unable to protect the man whom he considered dear to him.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

Eddie fidgeted slightly when he was led down the dismal hallway, the dim lights and shadows making him nervous. He felt the Speaker’s hand pressing on his lower back and he went stiff, wondering if he did something wrong. Any touches by the Speaker usually resulted in punishment and pain, and he didn’t want to experience either. He nearly bumped into the nurse when she stopped in front of the scale.

“Take your shoes off. I need to take your measurements.”

He obeyed, slipping out of his sneakers and following Belmuck’s instructions as she took his height and weight.

“210 pounds,” she commented, frowning in concern. “Last week you were at 226. What happened?”

Kevin smiled, waving a hand dismissively. “Oh, don’t worry too much about that. I put him on a diet a while back,” he murmured. Granted, it was more along the lines of Guerrero refusing to eat than a diet, but that wasn’t the nurse’s business.

Belmuck scowled, clearly disapproving the man’s aloof attitude. “So long it doesn’t drop below 200,” she muttered, jotting down a few notes on the clipboard. “Alright, follow me,” she ordered crispily, leading the men to an exam room. “Sit down and the doc will be with you shortly.”

Eddie gingerly sat on the table, the noise of the paper rustling underneath him making him flinch. Everything sounded too loud and close, and he retreated back in his mind for safety, his body on autopilot.

Meanwhile, Nash had to admit that he was surprised. He didn't think the latino would be this unresponsive after a mild case of discipline. He leant in till his lips were nearly brushing against the ears. “Keep this up and I may just cook you dinner tonight,” he murmured. His only answer was a blink.

He stood back up, a satisfied smile on his face as the doctor came in the room after a couple knocks. Yes, this might be easier than he thought.

 

 

* * *

 

 

The results were relatively unimpressive. A cracked rib on the left side that would be fully healed in less than four weeks. Kevin didn’t deny that he was relieved; he wanted to speed up the process and bring clients as quickly as possible. This was a costly venture and he needed to make a lot of money soon, else he risked going bankrupt.

The doctor wrapped things up and handed Nash the prescriptions. “Just something to keep the pain at bay.”

Kevin nodded, slipping the card in his pocket and making a mental note in his head to stop by the pharmacy tomorrow after he finished the paperwork. He enjoyed knowing the fact Guerrero was hurting, but the more logical side of him rationalized that if he wanted customers, he needed to help facilitate the recovery.

“Er, I don’t mean to pry, but how did these came by? I know it’s only a cracked rib, but all the bruises and the hypothermia is worrying.”

Nash flashed an overbearing smile and shook his head, breezing past the concern. “Mind your own business and keep your mouth shut, and you may find a nice fat bonus in your next paycheck. You’re only here to treat my employees, nothing more. Understand?” he drawled, his eyes lighting up with a clear warning - _Don’t ask questions._

__

After a moment’s pause, the doctor backed away easily. “Of course. Have a good day.”

Kevin dipped his head and took Eddie back to the lobby. He saw the Canadian springing up and going to the latino. He ignored the wrestlers, rolling his eyes as he walked towards his men. _‘Let Chris fuss over his bitch,’_  he thought scornfully.

“Eddie! Are you okay? Did the doctor find anything wrong?” Chris pestered quietly, gently cupping his friend’s cheeks and took in the sight of Eddie pale and trembling with lips tinged slightly blue. He quickly took his jacket off and slung it over the smaller body, rubbing the arms roughly to incite warmth.

The soft voice and the sensation of burning along his bare skin brought Eddie back and he focused on the blue-eyed man with confusion. “What?” he asked, frowning faintly.

Chris wanted to cry at the question. He wasn’t expecting the latino to understand him, let alone talk. “What did the doctor say?” he repeated, pressing his palm against the forehead.

“I...I don’t know,” Eddie replied, his mind blank when he tried to recall what the physician did. All he remembered was a nurse muttering something about his weight. “I really don’t.”

Chris pushed down his panic, instead helping the wrestler put the arms through the sleeves of the jacket. “Okay, that’s fine. You seemed to be alright, that’s what’s important,” he rambled, holding back a hysterical laugh because he really didn’t like how Eddie was forgetful.

Nash’s head snapped up from where he was checking his phone when he heard someone coming in. He softened instantly, recognizing Scott. “Hey man,” he greeted cheerfully.

Hall would be lying if he said he wasn’t shocked at how quickly Kevin’s mood had improved in the past hour. “I take it you got everything out of your system?” he commented dryly.

Kevin only laughed heartily. “I’m telling you, he’s the best punching bag a guy could wish for.”

Scott scoffed, shaking his head in exasperation. “You’re ridiculous,” he murmured fondly. He glanced at Guerrero and pursued his lips, remembering what he saw. “How are his ribs?”

“Only one cracked. He’ll be good and new in a month,” Kevin responded airly, following Hall’s gaze to where the latino and the Canadian were. He smirked at Chris’ obvious distress when Eddie didn’t do more than blink at the questions. “I don’t think he’ll be a problem anymore, but it wouldn’t hurt to check and make sure. I need you to keep Chris with you,” he added.

“Hmm?” Scott grunted, looking back at Kevin questionably.

“I think it’s best if those two are separated,” Nash explained simply, crossing his arms. He couldn’t quite describe the strange excitement bubbling in his lower stomach at what he’ll do in the apartment. For years, he wanted to put Eddie in place, to shut down the runt. Now, with the latino quiet and compliant, he can finally do what he pleased without having to put up with smart remarks. It was almost a relief. Not only that, but he also had every intention of testing the shorter wrestler’s submission, for the sake of clients. He couldn’t afford Guerrero snapping and injuring a potential high-end customer.

Chris nearly snarled when Nash grabbed Eddie’s shoulders, caressing mockingly in front of him. He didn’t even get a single word out of his best friend in the past ten minutes other than that little conversation in the beginning. He saw the terror in the brown eyes; it was subtle and he would have missed it if he hadn’t been studying the other man so closely.

“Time to go, kiddies. You’re staying with Scott, Benny,” Kevin chirped, steering Guerrero towards the exit as he flashed a smirk to Chris.

Benoit bit back a retort and watched them leave with a resigned stare, his shoulders stooping in defeat. He didn’t have the energy to face Hall’s pitying gaze when the blonde stood next to him.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

Eddie was worried once they got in the elevator. The Speaker didn’t say much and he was bursting with questions, but he remained silent. It was clear that he can only speak when spoken to, and the boss hadn't utter a word. Still, he couldn’t help the rising panic. Was he to be punished again? He swallowed his anxiety down, his heart thumping in his chest when the doors opened with a chime and a hand pushed his hips forward. He hated to admit it, but the possibility of being back in the water made him sick with fear. He’ll take anything over that.

They reached the apartment and Nash stopped, his eyes going over the smaller body as he took the jacket off the chicano. “I need to put you through one more test and then it’s bed rest for you, you hear me?”

Eddie didn’t know what test the Speaker was referring to, until a strap of his tank top was slid off his shoulder. He looked up to meet the darkened gaze, licking his lips nervously. He understood it was necessary, but he wished the boss would be lenient and wait another day. He wasn’t a fool, however, and knew better than to argue lest he want to be hurt again. There was a choice, pain or pleasure, and he already knew which one he preferred. “Yes sir,” he spoke softly, no barbs or reluctance showing in his voice.

“Good,” Nash purred, shoving the latino inside.

The door slammed shut behind them.

 **  
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	10. Improper Business

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to Hell XD 
> 
> Oh, this chapter is pretty intense. Proceed with caution :)

* * *

* * *

 

 

_January 04, 2005_

 

The past three weeks had passed by dreadfully slow and yet impossibly fast that they were almost a blur.

Nash hired two more groups of people who were assigned to either security or case managers. The goal was simple enough: round up clients who had adequate money to afford repeated visits. He’d also put together a small committee purely for the job of attracting customers who wouldn’t be regulars. By the time January rolled around, his company had over forty potential clients and even more single visits scheduled in the appointment book. He leaned back in his chair, stretching contently. He finally finished the last of signing documents and he was looking forward to going home for the day.

His thoughts were disrupted by a mousy woman who poked her head in his office.

“Sir, remember that Reign is coming in half-hour for his first visit,” she spoke timidly, fiddling with a pen in her hands as she awaited orders from the boss.

“Okay, thanks, Tiffany. You can go,” Kevin murmured, dismissing his secretary. He scratched his chin thoughtfully, wondering how this would go. This was Guerrero’s first client and while he was confident there wouldn’t be any issues, he couldn’t help the nagging doubt in the back of his head. This was too easy and he was a tad suspicious, but he had no choice. The client was insistent on the visit and he didn’t have the luxury of turning away what money the company can gain. _‘At least he’s not a high-profile customer,’_ he reassured himself. If there were losses in this appointment, it shouldn’t be too great.

He already had enough problems to deal with.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Chris was pacing around the hallway, his mind a jumbled mess with racing thoughts and paranoia. He had spent the last few weeks under Scott’s watchful eyes. He did feel a small jab of relief when he found Rey was still untouched. _‘Thank God for that.’_ At the same time, though, he was frantic with worry for Eddie. He’d only seen his friend once in passing when he walked by the cafeteria with Hall. The latino was staring down at the plate with hands folded in the lap. Chris wanted to go over there and take the smaller wrestler out of this filthy place, but he couldn’t.

Finally, he had his freedom back today and he was trying desperately to locate Eddie, to no avail.

He jumped, startled at a loud sound, and he looked over, his heart bursting in his chest when he saw just who he’d been searching for. “Eddie!” he called out, not bothering to mask the joy in his voice.

Eddie blinked, tilting his head when he heard his name. It didn’t sound like the Speaker. He glanced over his right, beyond the row of vases, spotting the blue-eyed man.

“Oh, thank Jesus. Come here,” Chris breathed, gesturing with his hand. He was slightly off put when the latino saunter over to him without protest. His friend moved with such an ease that it made him uncomfortable. _‘Something is wrong.’_ He gently grasped the chin and examined the subdued face quietly. There were no bruises or cuts as far as he can tell. Nothing to indicate violence, but he was convinced there was something different about Eddie. The expression was far too blank and open, the eyes dull as if there was a fog behind them. “Are you with me, buddy?” he whispered, snapping his fingers lightly.

Eddie only stared at the Canadian incomprehensibly.

For one terrible moment, Chris thought the other man’s tongue was cut out -- _‘he’s too quiet’_ \-- and ordered the latino to open up. He was even more so disturbed at how obediently Eddie followed his requests. After making sure the tongue was very much attached in the mouth, he had him close again. The confusion on Eddie’s face would have been hilariously comical if it wasn't for the fact that someone clearly taught him to expect something, because why would anybody ask him to open his mouth except to do one thing?

Chris was horrified and felt increasingly sick. This … This was conditioned response. The smaller man had been trained to willingly accept whatever depravity a person would do, without a fight or even a protest.

_‘God, I’m going to puke.’_

He grabbed Eddie in a powerful hug, a hand discarding through the unkempt hair. “Fucking hell, man. I’m so sorry I wasn’t there to help you,” he gasped, cracking at the end of his sentence. He kissed the forehead, eyes squeezed tightly shut, as if to pretend they were elsewhere away from this shithole. “I’m so sorry.”

“What’s this? A soap opera?”

Chris twitched and whirled around, pushing his best friend behind him. “What the fuck did you do to him?” he spat, glaring daggers at the bastard before him.

He was certain this man was the Devil.

A cocky smirk came across Kevin’s face and he shrugged nonchalantly. “He had to be ready for clients. I had to teach him the proper ways to behave, since you clearly couldn’t,” he drawled slowly.

Yeah, Nash was definitely the Devil in flesh.

“Fuck you,” Chris growled, spitting at the new CEO’s feet.

Kevin snickered at the response. “Are we in fifth grade now? Really, Chris. I thought you were better than that,” he chided playfully. “I need to borrow our little slut here. He has his first customer and I need to prepare him.”

Benoit paled, the anger vanishing and disbelief breaking his scowl. “Come on, this is cruel. Don’t do this to him, please,” he begged.

“Quiet. Time is money, you can see him afterwards,” Nash spoke snappishly, his amused demeanor gone, replaced with coldness.

Chris tried to keep Eddie out of reach, but the latino was eventually grabbed out of his arms and  he was held back by a security guard. “Dammit, Eddie. Don’t give up, okay?”

Unlike three weeks ago when Eddie left the clinic with Nash, he didn’t look back over his shoulder this time.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Alrighty then. You know the rules,” Kevin spoke tersely as he led Eddie to the private room. There was a lofty bed with fine silk blankets and pillows to maximize comfort, completed with large mirrors on the walls. He made the latino sit down on the mattress and he took the shirt off.

“...Yes.”

“Good. No talking to him. If he wants you to be loud, you’ll be loud. He wants to be rough, let him be rough. This is about the client’s needs, not yours. You’re to help Big Daddy make some big money,” he continued, loosening the jeans and sliding them down just enough to expose the hip bones. He clapped his hands, startling the smaller man who looked up dazedly. “Listen, you fuck this up and I’ll make you wish you were never born, understand?”

Eddie nodded absently. He wasn’t really paying attention to what the Speaker was telling him, too frightened by the loud coarse voice to focus on the orders. His mind drifted off to where he saw butterflies outside his window this morning. They had such beautiful blue and black wings -- they reminded him of the blue-eyed man. He wished he could have caught one in a jar and give it as a gift. Sorrow fell upon him and he slumped a bit, missing that softly-spoken stranger who’d cared for him. His ears perked up a little when he heard the Speaker talked to him again.

“Pleasure him, alright? That simple enough for you?”

He nodded again, watching the boss leave with idled boredom. He glanced down at his hands clasped together, remembering the gentle way the blue-eyed man had touched him. Would this client be as compassionate? Somehow, he doubted that. He looked up again when the door opened.

A large, burly man with a buzz cut, short beard, and piercings came into the room with a faint smile.

Eddie quickly built up a mental wall, shutting himself off and going into that safe corner in his mind again.

“They say I’m your first. Is that right? I’m going to be the one to pop your cherry?”

Eddie didn’t respond, staring at a lone curtain covering a single window.

“Ah, so you’re a quiet one. I got something for you, though,” Reigns purred, grabbing the hair and yanking the head back as he licked an earlobe. “...I’m going to make you scream, whore.”

Eddie remained silent, twisting slightly to bare his neck, at which the client happily bit into. Sharp stabs of pain prickled and faded from the overwhelming numbness as he further distanced himself from the rough manhandling. It was like he was watching this occur from somewhere else through filtered lens. He let himself be forced onto the ground, his knees falling to the carpet with a dull thud.

“Hope you’re good at this because this is the only lube you’re going to get.”

Eddie jerked slightly when he was shoved face-first into the front of Reign’s pants, his mouth bumping against the straining bulge. The wall he’d built inside started to crack and a small jolt of panic shot up his spine in a shiver.

“Oh? You like that, don’t you? Filthy slut.”

Eddie swallowed once and withdrew himself deeper, playing an episode of Friends in his mind to distract himself as the client unzipped the pants, fingers digging into his jaw to tilt his face slightly up. He part his lips to allow the member slide in between his teeth, relaxing his throat. Thanks to the Speaker’s...training, he didn’t gag, but that didn’t make this any easier. The voice in the back of his head was growing hysterical and he locked it up, moving his tongue along the underside to slick as much of the erection.

Reigns pulled himself out with a moan when his wet cock met the cold air upon leaving the warm mouth, his hands fisted into the dark hair. “Not bad, but you could use more practice,” he panted, shoving the latino back on the bed.

Eddie felt his pants coming off and he turned his  face, cheek resting on the silky covers as he focused on the gold doorknob across the room.

“Why don’t you spread those legs for me, hmm? It’s not fair for me to do all the work.”

He complied, moving his thighs without any hesitation to present himself before the client. He heard a gasp and mentally turned up the volume on the TV he was playing inside his mind.

“Well, aren’t you something?”

It was muffled and almost inaudible, but Eddie still caught the whisper. He shifted uncomfortably, the wall crumbling as hot hands touched his skin. He quickly flashed to the blue-eyed man and relaxed, imagining the two of them playing a game of cards.

Reigns seated himself between the legs, guiding his cock in the tight entrance. Just as he started to push in the welcoming heat, the smaller body went stiff and the brown eyes lost their dullness, suddenly lighting up to life.

Eddie screamed and twisted away, bringing his knees up as he clawed at the man. _‘Who the fuck -- what’s going on?!’_ He fought harder when he felt fingers brushing against his inner thighs, growing more and more agitated. “Get away from me!”

Reigns let out a howl when a foot rammed itself into his erection, and he slid off the latino.

Eddie quickly covered himself with a sheet, shaking furiously in shock and fear. “What the fuck were you doing --” his yelling was briefly interrupted when someone grabbed him from behind and pinned him down. “Stop touching me!”

 

“Stay still, dammit!” the guard barked out, pressing down on the shoulders harder when the struggles grew stronger.

Nash bounded into the room when he heard the ruckus. He took one look at the client who was bent over in pain and then at Guerrero who was screaming red-faced on the bed and fighting as if possessed. His blood started to boil, but he put on a fake smile and walked over to the customer. “What happened, sir?” he asked smoothly.

**  
  
  
**

Reigns wheezed as he put his clothes on angrily. “Your fucking slut kicked me in the balls. Good luck getting any business out of him. You’re fucking lucky I’m not going to sue,” he cursed, putting his jacket on and storming out.

Kevin’s mask broke and he glared coldly at the latino who had yet to let up on the damn hollering.

Eddie’s throat started to give out and then he was slapped across the face. He shut up, rasping quietly as he glanced up to see Nash glowering at him. A fear, intense like nothing he’d ever felt even more so than the kind he felt in the training room so long ago, wrapped around him and his body instinctively froze up.

“Leave. Make sure no one comes in,” Kevin spat at the guard who made a hasty retreat outside, closing the door. He let out an irked sigh and loosened his tie, unbuttoning his shirt. “For fuck’s sake, Guerrero, what was that about? You were doing so well.”

Eddie panted, draping more sheets around his shaking body when he realized he was naked, his clothes thrown across the room. “W-What are you talking about?”

“You were fine with blowing me and getting fucked. Why couldn’t you handle a client?”

Eddie went cold with horror, the memories returning to him with a full force of a runaway train. _‘I sucked that pendejo’s --?’_ he retched, clutching the blankets tightly as nausea washed over him. He flinched violently when the covers were ripped off him, his skin turning clammy with sweat.

“No more Mr. Nice Guy from me, you stupid fuck!” Nash roared, his fists diving into Guerrero’s sides ruthlessly. The wrestler beneath him cried out and attempted to curl into a fetal position, but he was having none of it. He was well and truly done. “You cost me a fucking client. All that training and for what? You’re a pathetic, useless, waste of time, good for nothing prick!” he continued, his voice rising higher as he attacked the body with renewed ferocity. He felt a few bones snapped and got a loud wail in response, but he didn’t care. He was completely furious. Granted, Luther Reigns wasn’t a man of wealth, but that was still money. Money his company were short of, and he just lost $600. He backed away to pull his pants down, breathing heavily. “You know what? If you’re not going to be a good slut and let someone fuck you, then I’m going to force you to,” he growled.

Eddie couldn’t move too much without struggling to breathe, but his brain went hyper alert and screeched at him to get away, and he automatically tried to do so when his hips were grabbed.

“Oh, no you don’t, you dumb bitch. You’re going to just stay right here and fucking take it because that’s what you’re supposed to do,” Nash snapped, digging his nails in until they broke the skin. He didn’t bother with spit, ramming himself in dry without any finesse. The latino let out a bloodcurdling shriek before abruptly going quiet, staring blankly at the ceiling.

Kevin grunted when he quickened his thrusts, slamming in deeper each time. There was no pleasure for either party. This was a lesson, a lesson he’ll pound into the stupid fuck as many times as he had to. “Stop giving me so much trouble. If I can find another client for you, then you’re going to suck him and let him fuck you without any of this pussy shit. You’re going to take a cock in the ass without being a bitch, you understand me?!” he hissed. He didn’t get a response and he chuckled darkly, reaching down to pinch the limp member resting between the splayed legs.

Eddie screamed again, snapping out of his shock, and squirmed uselessly on the bed, tear-stained cheeks ruining the blankets underneath him.

“Do we have an understanding?” Kevin repeated, meeting the puffy eyes coldly. The latino sniffled and nodded, whimpering when he shifted his hips to angle his thrusts against the wall of muscles rather than going inwards.

This agony was much worse and Eddie started to sob once he realized Nash wasn’t going to let him go. He arched his back with a loud whine when the hand squeezed his cock harshly.

“No more chicken feet, got that?” Nash persisted, rubbing his thumb into the slit and inciting another shriek.

“Sí! Sí! Lo siento, por favor! Detente, stop!!”

“No, here’s the thing. You don’t say stop. You take it like a whore and please the client. This is not about your needs, this has nothing to do with you,” Nash rose his voice over the Spanish pleas, twisting his finger and applying more pressure. The younger wrestler let out a wordless scream, head thrown back and limbs taut. He relented and returned his hand to the hips as he continued tearing into the shredded wall.

Eventually, he had to stop once his erection flagged from the burning friction. He slid out and tucked himself back in his slacks.

Eddie had long went silent, throat too raw for him to even moan when he was dumped on the floor and rolled over to his stomach. He recoiled when a knee was applied to his lower back and his hair was grabbed, being pulled until his neck was bent at an awkward angle.

“You pull that shit again and next time, you’ll be stuck in the wheelchair for the rest of your miserable life,” Kevin warned, breathing into an ear hotly. “Understand?”

Eddie managed a weak nod. “..Y..Yes,” he croaked, groaning when his face was slammed down against the carpet and his bones creaked when Nash got off of him.

Kevin straightened his clothes, making sure he appeared presentable and fixing his tie into a neat knot. He glanced at the blood on the mattress with disinterest and then back down on the latino whose eyes were glassy with pain and staring at nothing. He grunted and went outside, intending on taking a cold shower to clean himself. “Take him to the doctor,” he ordered the guard who was waiting by the door.

The man nodded and went into the room without a word.

 

  
Nash went down the hallway, whistling a merry tune.

 

 

 

 

 

* * *

* * *

 

 


	11. Broken Melodies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Been a while since i updated XD This chapter isn't particularly good since I'm exhausted and too lazy to proofread atm.
> 
> There'll be Spanish translations to English in the Notes at the end of the chapter! If there's any confusions, please don't hesitate to ask in the comments! I'll be happy to clear up any misunderstandings.

* * *

 

 

 

Chris had just put a new trash bag in the wastebasket when he heard a door slam. He craned his neck and spotted a familiar cocky smirk on Nash’s face as the CEO strutted down the hall. Worry churned in his stomach and he licked his lips, remembering Kevin’s words a hour ago.

_“I need to borrow our little slut here. He has his first customer and I need to prepare him.”_

He shuddered. Perhaps it was selfish, but in a way he was relieved that he was merely an assistant and not one of the bedders. Then he shook the uncharitable thought aside -- his friend didn’t have any choice and nor did he. Their positions were out of their control. He ran his hand through his ruffled hair, pondering his options. From where he was standing, the door from which Kevin had entered out of was partially open. Chances are that his best friend was in there, but he wasn’t sure that it was a good idea. Nash had made it painfully clear that they were not to be around each other. It would be stupid and irresponsible of him to risk his job, especially when his family could use the much-needed money. Not to mention that he was the one who got the latino in trouble last month. It was his fault that Eddie was tortured. It would be best for him to stay away lest he wanted to cause more harm than good.

He turned around and began walking the opposite direction, heading towards the elevator.

Then he heard a faint squeal and his heart clenched.

_‘Don’t stop.’_

But he couldn’t find the will to move his feet. Even if he proved to be a nuisance, he couldn’t leave the other man behind. Resolve now hardening, he hurriedly made his way to the room, his breath getting caught in his throat. He could scarcely recognize the younger wrestler who was bloodied and crying out jarbled pleas at the guards grasping the mangled limps. Chris growled low in his throat and moved in, pushing the other workers away. “What the fuck are you doing? Can’t you see you’re hurting him?” he barked out, blue eyes flashing with cold fire as he puffed up threateningly.

“Oh shut it. Nash told us to take him to a doctor,” the taller guard, Jean, hissed.

“Yeah. Not our fault the runt keeps squirming,” the other one added, casting a disdainful glance at the shivering chicano.

“I’ll take him. Go piss off,” Chris spat in disgust, waiting till the two men left before he kneeled down to gently cup his ami’s cheek. His chest constricted with an unnamed feeling when Eddie whimpered and twisted away from him. At this angle, he can see that the left ankle was broken and the right arm was dangling uselessly from the shoulder. The sight of the younger man naked made him blush, but he had more important things to be concerned with at the moment. “Eddie, it’s me. It’s Chris. I’m here, buddy. Can you understand me?” he whispered.

Eddie stilled, blinking and meeting the sky blue gaze fearfully. “C-Chris?” he choked out, a shudder rippling through him.

Chris smiled, although it resembled more of a grimace. “Yeah, it’s me. Can you tell me what hurts?” he asked softly.

Eddie’s vision blurred for a moment and he squeezed his eyes shut, blood oozing down from a gash on his forehead. The biracial pendejo, Thomas, had used a knife on him when he’d tried to fight. He had assumed that both guards would take advantage of him, not realizing that they were trying to transport him to the clinic. “Todo,” he wheezed, struggling to sit up.

“Easy, Ed. Don’t push yourself,” Chris admonished, pushing his panic down. If his dear friend can’t speak in English, then that was fine. Besides he understood what the younger man was saying by the cracking voice. “Okay, let’s get you to the doc,” he muttered, helping Guerrero stand up. His stomach tightened at the creaking bones when Eddie clung to his shirt, the face pitched in pain. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, taking his overcoat off and wrapping it around the shivering frame.

Eddie wanted to pass out, the agony racing up from his ruined ankle enough to make him nauseous. There had been no mercy from Nash and there wasn’t a spot on his body that didn’t ache. He stumbled against the Canadian, nearly falling on the ground again when his legs gave out under him.

“Take it slow,” Chris grunted, catching the floundering chicano. He slid one hand down to grip the slim hip for a better hold and he felt Eddie stiffen. Curious, he looked down to see the wide brown eyes staring back with blind fear.

“No, por favor. No puedo tomar otra. Por favor, me duele demasiado,” Eddie pleaded, tears welling up again. He was fully aware that he had no real way of stopping Benoit should the other man choose to use him, but he wasn’t going to just let it happen without trying to do something.

“Eddie? What’s wrong?” Chris pressed, worrying increasing when the latino squirmed, as if attempting to escape his touches. “Ed?” he repeated softly.

“No. Te lo estoy rogando.”

He sighed, frustrated at this barrier between them although he knew it wasn’t the smaller wrestler’s fault. “I don’t understand Spanish.”

Eddie swallowed, hating how his hand was shaking from where he grasped Chris’ shirt. “Don’t…..d-do it,” he whimpered, his words fragmented and barely coherent.

Chris frowned, not being able to discern what the chicano was so terrified of -- then it clicked and he felt sick. He squeezed the younger man’s wrist, the one that wasn’t attached to the broken arm. “Ed, do you honestly think I would hurt you?” he murmured, trying to catch the chestnut gaze that was now avoiding him. “Because I would never do that,” he continued when he didn’t receive an answer. Without thinking or really being aware of it, he buried a kiss in the matted hair. “You’re safe with me.”

Eddie tried to hide in the broad chest again, but doing so would make it impossible for him to walk and as much as he loathed to admit, he did need a doctor to take a look at him. Not that it would help since Nash would likely fuck him up again before he finished healing.

The journey to the clinic room was treacherously slow, Chris nearly dropping the latino several times as he struggled to bear the weight. Eddie at first tried to help, but the state of the damaged ankle prevented him from being able to stand up on two feet, let alone take a step forward. The result was him leaning on Benoit for support, muttering “lo sientos” every time the Canadian faltered and having to stop to adjust.

Chris may not be fluent in his friend’s language, but the apologetic tone was enough for him to shake his head. “Don’t. You have nothing to be sorry about. This isn’t your fault,” he spoke firmly. The last thing he wanted was for Eddie to feel guilty or ashamed. This was something that Nash was responsible for -- and by God he’ll make that bastard pay for hurting the latino like this.

Even if it killed him.

**  
  
**

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

 

The results from the doctor weren’t really that much of a surprise: besides the ankle and the arm, four ribs - three on the left side and one on the right - were also broken. The recovery time would be a minimum of three months. Eddie would be lucky if he was fully healed by March. The idea of being stuck in bed for ten weeks was enough for him to be bored out of his mind before he even left the office, but at least he won’t be seeing any clients during that time being so it was a small source of comfort.

Chris allowed himself a sigh of relief as he transported Eddie down the hall, one of the nurses was kind enough to lend a fresh pair of boxer shorts for the chicano to wear along with a wheelchair. The sight of the younger wrestler covered in casts and bandages under the overcoat would normally be a topic for jokes. They’d always had fun teasing each other for getting hurt, but now it wasn’t so funny. Not in these circumstances. He felt horrible for taking Eddie back to the very man who did this in the first place, but he didn’t have any other options, unless he wanted to risk another escape. He shuddered inwardly, recalling the last one. No, he wouldn’t put Guerrero in that jackass’ radar again. He was so lost in thought that he nearly ran over someone. Eddie’s yelp was his only warning and he dug his heels in on the smooth tile floor to stop. The person before them grunted and he barked out a hasty “sorry,” trying to maneuver the chair out of the way. He’d hope he wouldn’t cross paths with anyone, knowing they would report the two of them to Kevin and he really didn’t want the cruel bastard punishing Eddie.

“Ah, it’s fine. You should watch where you’re going though.”

The soft words made him glance up, recognizing Triple H. “Hunter!” he exclaimed cheerfully with a smile. It was nice to see a friendly face for once. He noticed the latino tensing up and he placed a gentle hand on one stiff shoulder. “It’s okay, Ed. Hunt is a good guy, you can trust him,” he promised sincerely.

Eddie eyed the blond man warily, biting on his swollen lip. He really didn’t like the vibe coming from Triple H, but if Benoit said that this pendejo can be trusted, then it must be true. After all, Chris was the one who saw everyone while he was stuck being used. He shivered, wishing he could wrap himself in the toasty warmth emitting from Chris’ touch. His eyes fluttered close as he became drowsy, leaning back in the wheelchair while the group strolled further down the hall. He caught a few snippets of the conversation in his half-asleep state and there was a vague chime as they got on the elevator.

“How’s he doing?”

“....Not so good. He’s hurt. Badly. And I’m worried he might not recover so easily.”

“He’s strong though. I don’t know why Nash is like this. I know he hates Guerrero, but this is a bit too far.”

“Gee, you think? I’m worried sick about him being alone in that godforsaken apartment. I don’t even want to know what that fucker is doing to him there.”

“Can’t you just visit him?”

“Kev doesn’t exactly trust me right now, Hunter. Hell, he’ll probably beat up Eddie just because I’m with him right now...”

“Damn.”

“I was wondering if you could do me a favor. If it’s too much, feel free to tell me to fuck off.”

Eddie was jostled awake several minutes later, opening his eyes and squinting against the brightness. He saw the familiar 316 number of the apartment door he was currently sitting in front of. A lump formed in his throat and he shrank further, wanting to disappear.

“Eddie? I’m sorry. This is the last place you want to be, I know,” Chris murmured, squatting down by the chicano, guilt consuming him at the stricken look on the pale face. He reached out, Eddie grasping the sleeve end of his shirt when he caressed the chin, and he had to avert his gaze for a brief moment. He couldn’t take the sight of his best friend like this. It was so wrong. "Hunt is gonna get you settled in and he’ll visit you at least twice a week to check on you for me since I can’t.”

Eddie shook his head frantically, tightening his hold when the other wrestler tried to move away. “No te vayas, por favor. No quiero Hunter. Por favor, por qué no vienes? Solo te quiero a ti,” he protested, his pleas falling out in a jumbled rush.

“Ed, I can’t,” Chris sighed, bowing his head. He didn’t know if he was referring to trying to make out what the latino was trying to say, or everything in general. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled, prying the fingers from his sleeve. “You’ll be safe with Hunter. He’ll keep an eye on you.”

Eddie watched Chris walk away with tearful eyes, feeling the presence of Triple H resting heavily besides him.

“Don’t worry. You’ll see him soon. Come on, let’s go,” Hunter grumbled, wheeling his former co-worker in. He wasn’t surprised to find that the door was unlocked and he could hear Nash humming somewhere around. “Kevin, we’re back!” he called out.

Eddie trembled, wishing he wasn’t here right now. The footsteps made him flinch and he quickly lowered his eyes, his good hand clutching the armrest of the chair while his broken one cradled against his heaving chest from where it was wrapped in a blue cast.

“Hello Helmsley, I wasn’t expecting you.”

“Just here to bring your employee back. Where’s his room?”

“Eh, he’s more of my whore. Room’s first on the left,” Kevin muttered dismissively, pointing to the direction adjacent from the living area.

Eddie dipped his head, shame prickling under his skin like goosebumps as he was steered towards his room. There wasn’t much in here, a barren bed with a flimsy sheet that did nothing to protect him from the cold. The mattress was pushed in one corner of the room in front of a paned window, with an old wooden desk and a chair across the other side. It was dark due to the sun being blocked out by the scratchy brown curtains. With the dimensions only seven by twelve feet, it was tiny enough to make Eddie claustrophobic and he wasn’t particularly filled with joy to be back. He was gently eased onto the thin bed with the help of Hunter and he quickly squirmed away from the man, trapping himself against the wall. Every touch felt like a stab of ice drilling right to his bones - only Chris was warm and full of security.

“Sorry to leave you here with old Nash,” Hunter said quietly, appearing to be genuinely regretful and it caused Eddie to relax just slightly. It helped that the bigger-built wrestler didn’t have that same hungry lust that everyone else had.

“I’ll try to see you soon, maybe tomorrow. What do you want me to get for you from the cafeteria?” Hunter resumed, shifting on his feet from where he was crouched on the knees so he was at eye-level.

Eddie blushed faintly, looking away and shrugging. “Mantequilla de maní y jalea sandwich?”

The silence between them along with a raised eyebrow from Helmsley deepened the reddening of Eddie’s cheeks and he tried again. “P...Peanut butter and jelly..” He didn’t know why it was such a momentous task to speak in English. It was embarrassing. He quickly clamped his mouth shut and hid his face behind the pillow he’d been holding in his lap.

“PB and Jelly sandwich. Got it. Anything else?”

He remained quiet, his body starting to shake as exhaustion crept up. Today’s events were sinking in now and he just wanted to sleep and pretend this was nothing more than a nightmare.

“Kay. See you later.”

Eddie sensed Triple H leaving the room and he allowed himself to relax fully now that he was alone. His muscles were sore from where he’d been so tensed and he let out a shuddering exhale, slouching against the wall.

The slam of his door being opened jolted him upright and he winced when his broken bones grated ominously at his sudden move. He glanced over and froze when he saw Kevin prowling towards him holding what appeared to be some sort of medical equipment.

“Hello, sunshine. Pretty sure you’d be dead at this point,” Kevin greeted candidly, bracing one foot on the bed to lean in over the cowering latino. “You never cease to surprise me, brat.”

Eddie forcefully swallowed, hating how frightened he was at this proximity with the pendejo. He wished to leave, to escape, but he wouldn’t get far. Not in this haggard state he was in, and he had no desire to earn more injuries.

“No smartass comments today?”

It was disgraceful, but he gave a meek shake of his head. His heart thudded nervously in his chest and he readjusted himself slightly to take the pressure off his lower back.

A cold grin sprawled across Kevin’s face and he purred in approval. “Good, because if I have to hear your stupid voice, I would snap your neck,” he quipped, placing the item down on the tableside and going over to the small closet next to the desk.

Eddie observed the older man pull out a link of chains and his body started to go into a panic overdrive. It wasn’t so much the fact he was going to be restrained that bothered him even though it should have, but rather what Nash would do once he was rendered defenseless. He whined low in his throat when the CEO approached him, tiny little gasps making his voice hitch. “No lo hagas. Sere bueno,sere callado. Te lo prometo,” he babbled.

Nash ignored the begs and tackled the latino, blood rushing to his groin at the pitiful mewling sounds as he tied Guerrero to the bedpost, securing the rest of the iron chains around the leg of the frame. He gave a final tug to make sure it wouldn’t become undone. “There. I’ll let it slack some tomorrow while I’m gone, but for tonight you can stay put like a good bitch,” he murmured, flashing the chicano a cruel smile. He picked up the object he’d been carrying when he came in, which was starting to look suspiciously familiar. He yanked the boxers down, rolling his eyes at the sharp whimper. “I’m not your nurse. I’m not going to take you to the bathroom every time you gotta piss,” he growled, prepping the catheter.

Eddie went rigid, panting raggedly and fisting the sheet. He didn’t know why he had to be tied up like this when Kevin could have simply changed the locks on the front door. He flinched when coarse hands grasped his member and he sobbed, shutting his eyes against the scorching tears. He cried out tightly when a thin tube was inserted in his urethra and turned his face, wet cheek on the pillow, as he fought to keep his shivers down. He knew better than to fight, but _Dios_ it hurt! Especially since the pendejo wasn’t using any lubrication.

Nash hummed quietly to himself once the latex tube was fully imbedded and he flexed the catheter around so that it was hanging off the bed, smirking again when he saw speckles of blood along the flaccid cock. “Sorry if it’s painful,” he laughed, patting the chicano’s knee. “I’ll check on you in a few hours. Enjoy yourself.”

Eddie could taste bile in the back of his throat and the throbbing from between his thighs wasn’t easy to ignore. He tried shifting, but it only made the pain worse. There was just enough pull from the chains where he could turn on his side, but that was about it. He was stuck. He sniffled and stare at the ceiling, wishing again that Benoit would visit him, not Hunter. _‘Is he ashamed of me?’_ he couldn’t help but wonder. He wouldn’t be surprised because, after all, he was filthy.

He didn’t blame Chris for avoiding him, he was nothing more than a worthless puta.

 

 

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

_February 27, 2005_

__

 

“Helmsley is here.”

Eddie peeked out from underneath the blanket to meet Nash’s icy glare. “O-Okay,” he stammered. He’d been able to regain his ability to talk in English, but there were still moments where he would falter and revert back to Spanish. It was really strange and he didn’t know why that happened. He pushed the sheets off and sat up, glancing hatefully at the chains that Nash used to confine him to this room. _‘At least the catheter is out, thank Dios.’_ He shuddered at the memory. That was an experience he did not want to relive. The first time Kevin yanked the tube out, he’d pissed blood for three days straight and it had hurt too much to hold himself while going to the restroom.

Nash waited until the chicano was done shuffling out of the sheet and then he swung his fist, slowing down his momentum at the last minute so that his knuckles only softly grazed the younger man’s shoulder. Guerrero recoiling away from him made him chuckle and he repeated the action, earning the same result. “Two for flinching. Here’s what ya get!” he chirped and then violently slammed his fist again against Eddie’s face, feeling a twinge of satisfaction at the impact of the back of other wrestler’s head smashing onto the wall. “The man isn’t a client, obviously, so don’t go fucking him since he isn’t paying. Got it, whore?” he snarled.

Eddie straightened himself up, his hand shaking as he wiped blood from his split lips. “Si,” he muttered, struggling to not curse the bastardo.

“Aiight,” Kevin grunted and left the bedroom, going to retrieve Hunter. At least he’d be able to run some errands while the former General Manager was here.

Helmsley joined the latino shortly after a chat with Nash. “Hey, Ed,” he greeted in his usual rumbling voice.

Eddie perked up, happy to see Triple H. Benoit hadn’t stopped by once and his chest ached whenever he thought of the Canadian, but Hunter had turned out to be a few hours of safety during the dark months he’d spent recovering. “Hey, holmes!” he grinned cheekily.

“All healed up yet?”

“No,” Eddie sighed, crestfallen. “Docs said it’ll be another two weeks…” he trailed off, lowering his eyes. No doubt he’ll be forced to please clients by then.

Hunter only harrumphed, grabbing the desk chair and pulling it up by the bed. He ruffled the chicano’s hair playfully before sitting down. “Chris says hi. He hopes you’re not too depressed and whatnot.”

Eddie’s smile faded and he looked away again, resting his chin on his raised knees. “Oh,” he mumbled. He was still convinced that Benoit was too disgusted with him to bother seeing him, but he didn’t say anything else.

“Sorry that I didn’t bring any food with me this time. I don’t have enough money at the moment.”

“No, it’s okay. I’m not hungry anyways,” Eddie shrugged. His appetite wasn’t like it used to be. If it weren’t for Nash’s dinners, he probably wouldn’t eat altogether. He was sick all the time, but from what, he didn’t know.

“Hey, kiddies! I’m going out for a couple hours. Mind staying here till I return?” Kevin announced, popping his head in the room while he slipped his coat on. He had to run to the city up north for a business meeting with Eric Bischoff.

“Yeah, it’s cool.”

“Great. Be back later.”

Eddie watched Kevin leave, realizing that he’d instinctively tensed up in the boss’ presence. His eyes snapped to Hunter when the blond let out a loud huff at the distinct noise of the front door being slammed shut.

“God, I never thought he would leave.”

“Hunter?” Eddie prompted, confused when Helmsley stood up and closed his bedroom door, his skin chilling at the click of the lock.

 

 **  
** “Now it’s time to drop this damn game of charades,” Triple H growled, turning to face the anxious wrestler with a dark gleam in his eyes.

 

Eddie gulped when Hunter's belt came off, his trembles starting up again. "N-Nash said I c-can't do this because you're not a client," he blurted out, withdrawing from the bigger man.

 

"Please. I'm not going to spend my money on you. You're not worth it. Besides, Nash isn't here right now," Hunter spat, grabbing the latino's sill-healing arm and twisting it behind the thrashing back, forcing Eddie to lay face-first on the bed.

 

Agony short-circuited Eddie's brain and he quickly went limp under Helmsley. The heavy weight on top of him made it hard to breathe and he choked when hands tore his sweatpants off. He wanted to beg, but he bit on his tongue instead, crying into the pillow as something blunt forced its way inside him and a shriek ripping out when Hunter slammed into him until the intruding member was buried to the hilt. The whole time, the iron grip on his bad arm hadn't eased up and every thrust jarred his bones together against the joint. It went on like this for what felt like an eternity before Helmsley pulled out and flipped him over on his back, shoving the engorged cock in his mouth. He gagged, the musky odor worsening his nausea, and fingers gripped his hair and pulled his head back to allow the erection slide deeper down his throat.

 

Hunter seated himself on the muted latino's chest, face stone-cold as he fucked the unenthusiastic mouth. He felt his climax building and he slipped out, spurts of cum spraying across the tear-stained cheeks. 

 

Eddie was brought back to the present moment when he was viciously backhanded and he looked up weakly.

 

"This stays between us. If you tell Chris anything at all, I'll go to Rey. Understand me?"

 

He nodded, remaining quiet. He didn't ask Triple H why this had occurred; it didn't matter in the end. His chin was grabbed and he met the stoic glare with resignation.

 

"What are you? Say it out loud or I'll break your arm again."

 

"....a...slut?"

 

"And what does that mean?"

 

Eddie hesitated, cold seeping into him. "Um...it means I'm only g-good for being fu-fucked."

 

"Bingo. You know that, so stop the fucking crying. This is your new life now, so you better accept it," Hunter seethed, shoving the chicano away and getting off the bed. "I'm gonna watch TV. Be quiet."

 

Eddie blinked now that the ordeal ended. He sat up wobbly and winced at the wetness between his legs. Helmsley had been quick, smart enough to not leave any bruises or marks behind. He didn't bother putting his pants back on, using them to wipe the cum off his face before kicking them off the bed and draping the blanket over his freezing body. He turned on his side and stared listlessly at the wall, curling up in a ball.

 

An hour later, Hunter returned, saying that Nash called and would be back in about twenty. The sheet was yanked off and Eddie found himself being fucked again, but this time he didn't cry. He only closed his eyes and waited for it to be over. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

* * *

* * *

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spanish-English Translation (courtesy of SpanishDict.com and my friend synystermoxley when SpanishDict betrays me xD)
> 
> “No, por favor. No puedo tomar otra. Por favor, me duele demasiado." - "No, please. I can't take another. Please, it hurts too much."
> 
> “No. Te lo estoy rogando.” - "No. I'm begging you."
> 
> "No te vayas, por favor. No quiero Hunter. Por favor, por qué no vienes? Solo te quiero a ti." - "Don't go, please. I don't want Hunter, please. Why can't you come? I only want you." 
> 
> "Mantequilla de maní y jalea sandwich?" - "Peanut butter and jelly sandwich?"
> 
> "No lo hagas. Sere bueno,sere callado. Te lo prometo." - "No don't. I'll be good, I'll be quiet. I promise."


	12. The Worst of Men

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I've done everything as you say.  
> I've followed your rules without question.  
> I thought it would help me see things clearly,  
> But instead of helping me to see,  
> I look around and it's like I'm blinded." - Out of Control by Hoobastank

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry! I know it's been a few months since I last posted a chapter. Things have been a little hectic lately. I'll try to update more often, but I can't make any promises.
> 
> Enjoy!

* * *

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

 

Over the next month and a half, Eddie had grown to dread Hunter’s visits. Once only coming one day every couple weeks, Triple H now stopped by almost every day. Each carnal session made Eddie sick and he found himself bolting to the bathroom to throw up after the man left. Nash remained oblivious of the degrading acts, which in itself was an enormous relief. Eddie wasn’t certain that he could survive another one of the boss’ lessons. He usually stayed in bed most of the time, only emerging to take a shower every now and then. He avoided dinner because he was too sick to keep the food down, especially since Nash made him return to whoring around. Yesterday, he had to satisfy a client, D-Von, who was awfully rough with him and added more bruises to his already discolored skin. He carefully shifted on his side so he was curled up under the blanket on the thin mattress. He was still sore from the conjugal performance. Eddie sighed, staring miserably at the wall he was facing, duly counting the cracks in the plaster. He was alone, except for Kevin and Helmsley, and he missed Chris terribly. He would do anything to hear his best friend’s lame puns or feel the warm touches. He curled up tighter, furiously rubbing the tears dripping down his face. He hated crying, but it was all he seemed to do lately.

 

“Hey, brat. I’m heading out. Hunt is visiting today, says he has a surprise for you,” Nash announced, poking his head in the room. He rolled his eyes when he spotted the chicano in bed. “I swear you’re the most spoiled slut around here. Don’t say I never treated you right,” he growled, returning to the kitchen.

 

Eddie swallowed his fear down and pulled the flimsy sheet more firmly around his shivering body. He tried to remind himself that it wouldn’t hurt -- Triple H was neither rough nor gentle -- that it wouldn’t last long. He’d had worse. But no matter how much he tried to reassure himself, he still flinched when he heard his door open again. The nearing footsteps made his spine coil in tensed anticipation.

 

“Eddie?”

 

His eyes flew wide open at the soft greeting. That was _not_ Hunter’s voice. He sat up, wincing at the pull of injuries he’d suffered from yesterday. He whirled around to take in the sight of all too familiar blue eyes, dirty blond hair slicked back, and a face peppered with stubbles. “C-Chris?” he whispered, not believing what he was seeing. This was impossible -- Chris wouldn’t visit him. He was nothing more than damaged goods.

 

“Hey,” Chris breathed, smiling warmly. He reached out to cup his friend’s cheek, pushing down his alarm at how pale the latino’s skin was. The dullness in the brown eyes made him scared, remembering that Eddie was mute and nonresponsive last time. _‘Stop it. He’s clearly not like that now,’_ Chris scolded himself, shaking the dread off.

 

“Is that really you, holmes? I thought you couldn’t come,” Eddie rasped, self-consciously pulling his tattered shirt over his shoulder from where it had slid down. Benoit was dressed in black slacks and a gray polo shirt that clung to the muscles nicely. Eddie looked down shyly, embarrassed that his own muscles had wasted away so he was just a scrawny nobody.

 

Chris scratched his neck and shrugged. “Nash said I can visit as long as I have ‘supervision,’” he murmured, putting air quotes with his fingers around the last word. “H is watching TV in the living room,” he added, sitting on the bed next to the chicano. He resisted the strange urge to pet his friend’s hair. _‘He’s not some kid,’_ he sighed internally, but Eddie looked so ridiculously fragile right now and Chris could feel a surge of overprotectiveness jolting through him. He was definitely going to make Kevin’s death painstakingly slow for hurting the younger man like this.

 

Eddie blinked, wrapping the blanket around the waist to hide the bruises along his legs. He didn’t want the Canadian to find out about him getting beaten up by Nash every time he failed to please the clients. He had no desire to get Benoit in trouble, especially when the other wrestler can finally hang with him. “I...I thought you didn’t want anything to do with me,” he mumbled, keeping his gaze on his lap.

 

“What? No, why would you think that?” Chris exclaimed, staring at the other wrestler in shock. He had no idea why Eddie would even consider the idea he would abandon him.

 

“Because I’m worthless.”

 

Chris gaped at his best friend for a moment, his heart twisting at the broken look on the withdrawn face. “Ed, no…” he whispered, moving in to pull the latino in a gentle hug. “You’re not worthless. Not then, not now, not ever,” he growled fiercely, pressing his lips into the disheveled brown hair. He could feel the smaller body shaking in his embrace and he wrapped his arms more securely around the thin frame. “You’re my best fucking friend. You mean the world to me,” he continued with a cracking voice, not caring how cheesy he was being. “I would never leave you behind.” He ran his hand up and down Eddie’s back, trying to soothe the trembling man.

 

Eddie buried his face in the broad chest and cried quietly, releasing the emotional dam that had been building up for months. “I needed you, Chris,” he sobbed, clutching the Canadian’s shirt tightly. He wanted to leave, to get out of here, because he was tired of being alone and used.

 

Chris’ face crumbled and he moved his hand to run his fingers through the hair, frowning when he noticed how oily the strands were. “I’m so sorry,” he murmured, hugging his friend more snugly. “No offense, but you need a shower, Ed,” he added quietly. He didn’t know why the chicano wasn’t taking care of himself, but it hurt Chris’ soul. He let out a sharp exhale and got up on his feet, gently cradling Eddie in his arms and picking up the smaller wrestler. “C’mon, let’s get you cleaned up,” he quipped, carrying his friend out of the bedroom.

 

“Where are you two going?” Hunter drawled from where he was lounging on the leather couch. He studied the Canadian walking across the living room with boredom. He flipped through the channels on the TV, his thumb pressing repeatedly on the remote until he settled on the Discovery Channel.

 

“Just to the shower,” Chris replied, opening the bathroom door, but before he stepped inside, Triple H called out to them again. He sighed testily and turned around to face the man, irritation prickling under his skin. He was impatient to get the water running so Eddie could warm up because he could feel the latino shivering.

 

“By the way, Eddie, don’t forget we’re gonna watch a movie when Chris heads out.”

 

Eddie stiffened in Chris’ embrace, staring at Hunter fearfully. He knew the bastard was subtly reminding him of the warming and he gulped, hiding his face in the chest. “O-Okay,” he mumbled. The reminder was unnecessary; while he wanted to tell Chris that he didn’t want to see Helmsley anymore, he was aware that if he did so, Rey will be punished as a result. No matter how badly he got hurt, he’ll gladly take Hunter’s abuse if it meant the pendejo won’t go after his younger friend.

 

Chris knitted his brows at Hunter, wondering why the other man had to say something so irrelevant, but he dismissed the message and lugged Eddie inside the bathroom. He settled the shorter wrestler on the closed toilet seat and shut the door, locking it so they won’t be disturbed. He leaned over the tub, turning the water on and holding his hand under the spout until he determined the temperature was warm enough. Once the tub was filled, he twisted the knobs to shut off the pressure. He helped the chicano undressed and eased him in.

 

The water felt good and Eddie moaned, slumping against the ceramic ledge and closing his eyes in contentment. Gentle hands massaged the shampoo in his greasy hair, tickling his scalp, and he purred softly. The attention was rare and he was enjoying every minute of it.

 

Chris couldn’t stop a smile from spreading across his face at the cooing noises. _‘Ed’s like a cat sometimes,’_ he thought fondly, running his fingers through the hair until the oiliness was no longer so thick. “Close your eyes,” he murmured, waiting for the latino to do what he said before he gently rinsed the shampoo off, cupping a hand just over Eddie’s brow so the water didn’t accidentally get in the younger man’s eyes. “Have you been eating right? You’re really skinny,” he questioned, concern coloring his voice. He’d noticed that his friend weighed almost nothing more than a feather when he carried him. Chris highly doubted Nash was making sure Eddie remained healthy, but this level of negligence was shocking.

 

Eddie shrugged, tilting his head back to allow the water to cascade through his hair. “I don’t really get hungry,” he answered softly, shivering when the Canadian began caressing his aching shoulders and smoothing out the tight knots in his muscles. He appreciated Chris’ worry, but he really didn’t want a lecture right now.

 

Chris frowned at the response, looking at the chicano sternly. “You still need to eat, Ed,” he chided mildly, but didn’t press the subject. He couldn’t exactly blame Guerrero for the lack of appetite, knowing what his co-worker was going through every day. Benoit hated the helpless feeling, frustrated that he couldn’t put a stop to this neverending nightmare. He applied conditioner in the wet brown hair and continued cleaning until the strands returned to their full sleekness. He poured more water over the other man’s head before pulling the drain out, grabbing a fluffy white towel and draping it over Eddie to dry the shaking latino. “Do you feel better now?” he murmured, his thumbs tracing circles over the pale cheeks.

 

“Kinda,” Eddie mumbled, a shy smile creeping out of his normally apathetic expression. The towel was wrapped tightly around him and he reached his arms out, immediately clinging onto Chris when the Canadian picked him up from the tub. His fingers latched on the shirt collar and he buried his face in the crest of Benoit’s shoulder while he was taken back to his bedroom. Thankfully, Helmsley didn’t make another comment and Eddie suddenly wished Chris would spend the night just so he would be safe for a little while longer. He was placed down gently on the bed and he watched his best friend go through the closet for clothes. “I can do that myself, ese,” he protested,, about to stand up when Benoit flashed him a grizzly glare that oddly reminded him of a bear.

 

“Nonsense. Just stay there and let me take care of you,” Chris grumbled, swallowing down his anger when he realized how sparse the chicano’s clothes collection was. _‘Geez, Nash, at least treat him like a human being,’_ he fumed silently. He couldn’t believe the bastard would go this far to shred Eddie’s dignity. Chris eventually decided on a pair of basketball shorts and a dark tank top riddled with holes, returning to his friend. He glanced around the room, his brows creasing when he observed how the window didn’t seem to be insulated properly. He hoped the younger man wasn’t freezing to death at nights.

 

“Mother hen,” Eddie complained good-naturedly, his smile fading at the disconcerted look on the Canadian’s face. He wondered if he said the wrong thing, stiffening when the other wrestler moved the towel off. He trusted Chris wholeheartedly and knew he wouldn’t be hurt, but everything made him panic. He kept his eyes averted as Chris helped him put his clothes on, his face heating up in humiliation. “How’s Nancy and Daniel?” he blurted out, hating the awkward silence.

 

Chris wasn’t expecting the question, glancing at the latino puzzledly. In the midst of all the chaos going on, there hadn’t been much opportunity to have a normal conversation and it confused him that Guerrero was bringing up such a topic now. He softened when he noticed how nervous Eddie looked and he pondered if the question was due to his friend trying to focus on something tangible. “They’re doing fine,” he replied, absently reaching out to caress the shorter wrestler’s cheek. The two of them had always been intimate as friends and he missed touching Eddie. “Of course, Nancy doesn’t know exactly what I do or what this place is. She would be horrified if she ever found out,” he added with a bitter chuckle. He really wished he didn’t work here; he could feel his humanity breaking off piece by piece the longer he stayed, but he had no choice.

 

“You can always find another job. It’s not hard to find a position that pays just as well, if not better,” Eddie argued, unconsciously leaning in the hand that was cupping his face. He really didn’t want Chris to leave; the idea of being alone in this hellhole absolutely terrified him, but the alternative was even worse. Everyone ended up hurting him and taking advantage of him because he was Nash’s plaything. How long until Chris joined in? “Kevin tried to make you hurt me, remember? He’ll probably do it again...and I don’t want you to turn out like the others,” he confessed quietly, bowing his head and shivering.

 

“Ed, I would never do that,” Chris whispered, pulling the chicano in a firm hug, kissing the forehead. “I’m not leaving you here and I won’t ever hurt you like those assholes,” he promised, feeling his shirt go damp when Eddie started crying. He didn’t comment on it and simply held his friend close to his chest. He knew the money wasn’t worth letting Guerrero get treated like this, but he couldn’t abandon him. _‘Maybe I really am an idiot,’_ Chris thought as he began coming up with another escape plan. The last time they tried to run away ended horrendously, but he had to give it another shot, for both of their sake. “We should get out of here soon, before things get worse,” he mused aloud. “I wonder if Hunter would help…”

 

Eddie sniffled, shaking his head. “He won’t,” he muttered, digging his fingers in the thin fabric as he recalled how Helmsley laughed in his face when he said the bastard would pay for threatening Rey-Rey. “He can go to hell for all I care,” he hissed, nuzzling against the Canadian.

 

Chris was stunned by the hateful words, staring at the other wrestler in shock. “Whoa, hold on. Why would you say that?” he demanded, pushing Eddie back just so he can see his face. Benoit couldn’t understand why the latino was so convinced that Triple H wouldn’t lend them a helping hand, especially when the blond-haired man cared about Guerrero’s well-being.

 

Eddie cursed inwardly, not realizing that he’d said his thoughts loud enough for the Canadian to hear. “Um, no reason,” he lied, forcing a smile. “It’s been a rough couple days, don’t take it to heart,” he laughed.

 

Chris frowned, not believing Eddie’s act for an instant. “If he’s hurting you..” he growled, feeling sick at the prospect that Hunter would do such a vile thing. Maybe it was better not to trust anyone in here since they all apparently had no self control when it came to the defenseless chicano. If Helmsley was seriously assaulting Eddie, then Chris was going to tear the asshole a new one. Nobody got away with harming his best friend.

 

Eddie shook his head frantically. “He’s not!” he protested a little too harshly. “Papi, I promise. He hasn’t done anything. I’m just cranky, that’s all,” he reassured, clinging on the bigger man. He had to convince Benoit or Rey will pay the price for his stupidity. “Just forget about it, por favor,” he mumbled.

 

After a moment, Chris gave in with a sigh and tightened his arms around the scrawny frame. “Alright,” he conceded. “But if he touches you, I’ll kill him,” he spat, taking in a deep breath and trying to calm down.

 

“I’ll let you know, but he isn’t doing anything to me,” Eddie quipped, his eyes half-closed in the warm embrace. He yawned and pulled Chris down until they were wrapped around each other on the bed, cocooning himself against the Canadian’s toasty body and purring. He remembered how they used to cuddle in shitty motel rooms after a long day of traveling and he’d forgotten how much he missed it.

 

Chris could feel his cheeks heating up when Eddie hooked a leg over his until he couldn’t tell whose limbs belonged to whom. “Fucking hell, you’re like an octopus,” he grumbled, his face turning redder when the latino practically vibrated against him, purring so loudly that he was becoming more and more convinced that Eddie was a cat in disguise. He smiled and kept his lips pressed against the drying hair, neither of them saying anything in the quiet room.

 

He didn’t realize he had nodded off until he jerked awake. He peered around groggily, carefully moving an arm so he didn’t dislodge the sleeping man. He rubbed his eyes, idly wondering how long he’d been asleep. He checked his watch and cussed under his breath when he saw that two hours had passed. “Fuck,” he muttered, untangling himself from the bed. He was going to be late -- Nash had him run errands once a week to drop mails off at clients’ addresses and he had to get going. He leaned over Eddie and planted a soft kiss on his friend’s cheek. “Sorry, cheri. I’ll see you soon,” he murmured guiltily, leaving the room and creaking the door halfway shut. He glanced at Hunter who was reading some novel by Stephen King. “Hey, man. Can I talk to you for a second?” Chris asked, his mind still lingering on what Eddie had said a couple hours ago. The latino’s reassurances didn’t persuade him; no matter how cranky the younger man was, Eddie never bashed people. He was never the type to lash out because he was too pure. So Chris knew that for his friend to say such things meant something had to have happened.

 

Hunter sighed and closed the book, placing it on the tableside. "Sure, what's up?" He grunted, stifling his impatience. He wanted the Canadian to leave so he could fuck the Chicano before Nash returned. He couldn't explain why he enjoyed it, but the sex helped blow off major steam. He snorted, thinking he should introduce the whole thing as therapy.

 

  
"It's about Eddie," Chris began carefully. If his suspicions were right, then he had to be mindful of his words. He didn't want to put the younger man in trouble, having no doubts that Hunter would go after Eddie once he was gone since he wasn't in the position to protect the Latino.

 

  
Helmsley's eyebrows arched at that and he pretended to be concerned. "Why? Did he get hurt or something?" He asked softly, hiding his irritation. He should have known the coward would say something. He'll have to teach Eddie a lesson about shutting up.

 

  
"I'm not sure. He's been acting weird lately and I don't know who to trust anymore. You're not doing anything to him, are you? It's bad enough that he has to be touched by perverts," Chris murmured, keeping an eye on the blonde to gauge his reactions.

 

  
"Huh? Of course not, he's my friend just as much yours. Why would you think that?" Hunter exclaimed, forcing himself to sound shocked. He was a much better actor than most people credit him for and he knew he can manipulate the Canadian into believing that he was innocent.

 

  
"I don't know, but he can barely walk and I know Nash wouldn't push him this far since the bastard wants Eddie pleasing as many clients as possible," Chris spat, feeling disgusted by the very thought. He really did despise Kevin and it was killing him that he couldn't make the man pay, not yet.

 

  
Triple H frowned, appearing like he was in deep thought. "Well, Kevin has been acting grumpier than usual lately, maybe he's been taking it out on Eddie," he hummed, shrugging his shoulders. "If Eddie is uncomfortable with me coming over, I can always stop. I don't want him to feel threatened by me," he lied, smiling inwardly.

 

  
Chris hesitated for a moment before shaking his head. "No, that's fine. Sorry to bother you. I'll come back tomorrow," he sighed, scratching his neck. Maybe he was mistaken and Eddie was honestly just cranky earlier. He waved goodbye to Hunter and left the apartment unit. He felt silly for even suspecting the other man for hurting Eddie; Helmsley was one of the very few people in the place that the Latino seemed to trust. It would be counterproductive to stop the visits.

 

  
_'Are you sure HHH is truly innocent?'_

 

  
He winced at the dark voice in his head and shook it off. Until he had real proof or until Eddie said something, his doubts were just him being paranoid over nothing. He looked at the door one last time before walking down the hall.

 

 

  
He was being a worrywart, that was all. Eddie was perfectly safe with Hunter.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

  
  
Hunter stepped in the bedroom, rolling his eyes at the dozing form. He made his way over to the bed, leaning over Eddie and smacking the Latino's cheek hard enough to bruise. "Rise and shine, whore," he greeted, snickering when Eddie jumped.

 

  
"Chris?" Eddie mumbled, cupping his inflamed cheek and yawning. His blood ran cold when he opened his eyes and saw Hunter leering down at him. He swallowed anxiously, looking around the room for the Canadian. "W-Where did he go?" He asked, shivering when fingers danced along his shoulder.

 

  
"Your boyfriend had to go do something. Now it's about time you and I have a little talk. I'm afraid you've forgotten about our deal," Hunter drawled, moving in close to blow hot breath in the smaller man's face.

 

  
"No, I haven't!" Eddie protested, shrinking away from Helmsley and scooting on the bed, trying to put some distances between them. He flinched when his tormentor laughed loudly and wrapped an arm around him, preventing him from escaping.

 

  
"Oh, Eddie, Eddie, Eddie," HHH tsked, shaking his head ruefully. "You really oughta stop thinking that I'm a dumbass. I can see right through your pathetic lies." He curled his fingers in the messy brown hair and yanked the head back, smirking at the pained squeal. "I taught you better than that."

 

  
Eddie cried out, squirming under the tight grip with tears pooling in his eyes. "I didn't say anything, I swear!" He wailed, screaming when his hair was tugged again. He didn't know why Hunter was messing around with him when he didn't do anything wrong.

 

  
"Really? Then why is your buddy accusing me of hurting you?" Hunter spat, slapping Eddie again. He knew Chris would eventually become suspicious because the whore was a terrible liar; anyone could see right through Eddie's childish play. "It's time I remind you who's in charge here..."

 

  
Eddie let out a dry sob, shaking his head the best he could under the painful hold. "No, I didn't tell him anything," he whimpered, trembling when Hunter's free hand wandered down his sweaty body, pulling his shorts down. "Por favor, don't," he gasped, not wanting to go through another session.

 

  
Hunter snorted and let go of the disheveled hair to grab the Chicano's chin, forcing miserable brown eyes to meet his. "C'mon, you know what you are. Remember the saying?" he purred, tapping the jawline as he awaited the response.

 

  
Eddie swallowed, no longer fighting back the tears that streaked down his face. "I-I'm a whore and whores don't have rights," he mumbled, squeezing his eyes shut when Helmsley pinched his cheek.

 

  
"Good, good," HHH nodded approvingly with a proud smirk. "Now, it's either you or your precious little Rey. Which shall it be?" he continued, already knowing what the smaller wrestler will say. He enjoyed playing around with Eddie's head like this and he relished every expression that flashed across the Chicano's face.

 

  
Eddie crumpled, giving up and forcing himself to relax under the bastardo. He spread his legs willingly, keeping his eyes shut when he heard Hunter grunted in satisfaction. He felt the hands go down and pried his thighs farther apart to expose him, his muscles quivering as he resisted the urge to fight. Everything in him was screaming at him to stop this, but he knew that if he struggled, his friend would be the one to suffer so he forced himself to stay still.

 

 

Triple H grinned at the view, pushing a finger in the tight entrance and drinking in the pained cries. “Be grateful I’m even prepping you,” he scolded the ungrateful latino. He added two more, stretching the opening and ignoring the blood on his digits as he withdrew his hand. He unzipped his jeans and slid his hard member inside the wet heat, groaning in pleasure when Eddie clenched down on him. "Shit. I don’t know why you bothered becoming a wrestler when you would be better off selling yourself in the streets,” he grunted, moving his hips to pound into the smaller body without giving Guerrero a chance to adjust to his cock. “So fucking tight,” he hissed, throwing his head back and moaning.

 

 

Eddie twitched on the bed, sobbing quietly at the rough thrusts. The uncomfortable burning sensation won’t go away and he gagged when nails scratched his hips. Each encounter left him feeling more violated and he didn’t know how to stop the pendejo without making it worse because, _dios_ , it only ever got worse. “I hate you,” he whispered hoarsely, flinching as Helmsley smacked him. He fell silent, the only noise in the small room the sloppy motion of Hunter’s cock sliding in and out of him. He kept his gaze focused on the ceiling, whimpering and gasping at the brutal pace. Finally, Triple H came, the seeds painting his insides. Eddie shuddered, mewling when the bigger wrestler pulled out of him.

 

 

“Good fuck, as always,” Helmsley chuckled, ruffling Guerrero’s hair playfully as he tucked himself back in his pants. He smirked at the cum leaking out of the latino’s ass, scooping some of it up and shoving his hand to Eddie’s face. “Do me a favor and lick that off for me, darling,” he drawled, mockingly taking on a country accent.

 

 

Eddie scowled, glowering at the bastard as he forced himself to clean the cum off. He almost threw up at the repulsive taste, swallowing the fluids down. He wasn’t sure who he hated more, Nash or Hunter, but right now he was having a hard time trying not to lunge at Helmsley. His reward was a bruising kiss and he bristled, choking when a tongue slid in between his lips parted in surprise.

 

 

Hunter broke away with a satisfied sigh. “Thanks for the fun. I had a blast,” he hummed, smiling haughtily. He normally wasn’t talkative like this; he usually just fucked the chicano and left without a word, but today he felt fantastic. _‘Probably because it’s payday,’_ he mused, his grin now ear to ear. “Since you did such a convincing job, I won’t hurt Rey even though you broke the deal,” he purred, pinching Guerrero’s cheek and getting off the bed. He ignored the indignant protest, shutting the bedroom door. He made sure the television was turned off and the couch was straightened up before he left the apartment. He whistled a merry tune as he walked down to the first floor, nearly bumping into JBL when he turned around a corner. “Sorry, bro,” he apologized, offering his hand.

 

 

Bradshaw accepted the handshake, smiling amiably at his former rival. “It’s all good. Heard you were watching Nash’s slut,” he quipped. He just got hired by the boss earlier this week and he had to admit he was impressed with what Kevin have done to this company. It was off to a slow start, but he could see the potential and he was eager to work as the financial advisor.

 

 

“Yeah. The runt is a good fuck. You don’t know what you’re missing out on,” Helmsley laughed, winking at the Texan. He hadn’t told anyone that he was using Eddie for his own entertainment without paying, but he trusted JBL. The two of them had grown close over the recent years. “I would appreciate if you keep that between us,” he added with a click of his tongue, patting John’s back. He resumed walking in the direction he had originally been in. “Tell Kev I said hi the next time you see him!”

 

 

“Of course, scout’s honor,” Bradshaw murmured, waving bye to the blond as he turned around to head towards Kevin’s office to start his shift. It was nice seeing a familiar face in the building.

 

 

Hunter glanced at room 120, realizing that this was Scott Hall’s apartment. He crossed his arms, tapping his foot thoughtfully on the carpeted floor. He did promise Eddie that he wouldn’t punish Rey, but he was still riled up with adrenaline from the sex. _‘Brat did break the agreement,’_ he rationalized, making up his mind and going up to the unit to knock on the door.

 

 

Hall answered, opening the door and staring at Helmsley in confusion. “H? Whatcha doing here?” he asked curiously, inviting the muscular wrestler in. He had just gotten dressed and nearly tripped over his shoes to find out who was knocking.

 

 

“Just felt like stopping by,” Hunter replied with a nonchalant tone. He noticed that Scott appeared busy. “You leaving?”

 

 

“Actually yeah. I have to make a quick run to Kroger’s to get food. Would you mind keeping an eye on Mysterio while I’m gone? It shouldn’t be more than a hour before I’m back. It’s okay if you can’t, I can find someone else,” Hall said, sliding his jacket on. Rey may be tiny, but good lord, the kid ate like a pig. He was already out of a month’s worth of groceries and it’d only been a week since he last went shopping.

 

 

Hunter felt a wave of giddiness washed over him, but he stayed calm. He didn’t want Scott to get suspicious of him. “Yeah, it’s no problem, man. I’ll just watch TV or something,” he yawned, gesturing at the couch and smiling reassuringly at Scott.

 

 

Relief spread across Hall’s face and he nodded gratefully at the younger man. “Thanks a bunch, you’re a lifesaver,” he sighed, grabbing his car keys and leaving the apartment. He knew Helmsley was a good person and he trusted him to babysit Mysterio without bothering the kid.

 

 

Hunter smirked once Scott was gone, brushing his hair back out of his face. He walked to the closest bedroom, seeing Mysterio playing some console game. He watched for a moment and then cleared his throat. “Hola, Rey,” he greeted casually, knocking on the opened door. He chuckled when the masked wrestler turned to face him. “You really oughta find better friends if you don’t want to end up getting hurt,” he spoke.

 

 

“Huh?” Rey tilted his head at the dark words when Helmsley closed the door. He froze as the other man walked up to him, unbuckling the jeans.

 

 

He didn’t know what to do so he started praying.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

Bradshaw was explaining something about credit checks when he spotted Helmsley leaving the lobby. He paused in the middle of his report, frowning as he recalled the conversation not too long ago. He didn’t care about Guerrero, but from a business standpoint, what Hunter was doing was costing the company precious money. Nash had complained to him that the latino had been moodier than usual lately and the clients had more complaints. It made sense why Eddie’s performance was lacking once Hunter’s actions were factored in. If John wanted to see this place succeeded, he had to put a stop to the selfish bastard’s greed. “Sir, if you don’t mind me speaking out of turn, I may have an idea and a solution as to why Mr. Guerrero isn’t doing his job properly,” he spoke carefully to the boss. If he played his cards right, he may get the chance of personally overseeing Eddie’s discipline. He was still furious about what had happened between them last year and he was looking for payback. He could disguise his revenge as professionalism if he was smart.

 

 

Nash glanced over at JBL from where he had his chin resting on his hand. He was bored out of his mind; math was not his area of expertise, but he knew he had to find a way to keep track of the money and weed through potential clients. He wasn’t expecting the millionaire to suddenly veer off topic, assuming that Bradshaw simply wasn’t interested in the actual labor. “Go on,” he waved at his advisor to continue.

 

 

Bradshaw smiled. Many had accused him of being a snake and they were right. Helmsley was a fool to trust him regardless of their tentative friendship; he knew the best way to get brownie points with the boss was to wipe out any competition. “I have it on good word that your little fuck toy has been sleeping around without your permission…….” he began.

 

  
No one was better than he, John Bradshaw Layfield, at using words as the most formidable tool at getting what he wanted. By the time he put his plans to fruition and bid his time,, he would be at the top of the company.

 

 

 

 

* * *

* * *

 


End file.
